Atin Bralor
by AtinBralor
Summary: A series of short stories focused around Kal Skirata and the Kyrimorut aliit. They will introduce my OC Atin Bralor, although she will not feature in all stories. The intention is to build on that in the RepCom books and take the clan forward from where they left off. Characters include: Omega, Delta, Yayax, Nulls, Kal Skirata, Walon Vau, Bardan Yusik etc.
1. Birth 19BBY

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or settings, except for Atin Bralor. **_

**Glossary:**

_Beskad_ – traditional Mandalorian saber made from _beskar_.

_Beskar_ – Mandalorian iron; when worked correctly, an extremely strong metal which can deflect even a lightsaber blow.

_Buir_ – father/mother.

_Kandosii_ – Colloquially, means awesome ~ taken more to mean congratulations in this case.

_Kar'yai_ – central, communal room of the _vheh'yaim._

_Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya_ – Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger.

_Ner_ – my.

_Shebs_ – butt.

_Su'cuy_ – Hi.

_Ta'buir_ – my own mash-up word meaning 'second father'; from the word _t'ad_ (two) and _buir_ (father). Represents Atin's position as a second father figure, and ultimately the person who will adopt her if anything ever happens to her birth parents.

_Tihaar_ – a clear spirit.

_Udesii_ – relax; take it easy; calm down.

_Vheh'yaim_ – Traditional Mandalorian home. Wheelhouse structure, traditionally a temporary structure of timber, vines and mud.

_Vod_ – bother/sister (can also mean 'friend').

_Vod'ika_ – diminutive ~ little brother/sister.

* * *

**_Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore __ 19BBY_**

Fi paced anxiously, a behaviour picked up from Kal Skirata. It didn't make any difference but he couldn't seem to stay still. He strode from one end of the main room to the other, making his way between the occupants and stepping over Mird, who was sleeping by Vau's feet in front of the central hearth.

Atin reached up and caught his arm as he passed and gently tugged him down onto the bench, careful not to catch him off balance. "_Udesii_, Fi, sit down. You're making us all dizzy." He put an arm round his shoulders; partly in comfort and partly to keep him there. "She's not the first woman to give birth, and she's a Mando girl! She could pop out a baby while planning an assault. It'll be over soon and you'll have the kid in your arms." He met Kal's eyes across the room and motioned towards his bottle of _tihaar_. "_Kal'buir_, give him something to settle his nerves."

Kal drained his glass and poured a fresh measure of the strong fruit spirit. Before he could lift himself from his chair, Ordo had closed the distance and ferried the glass safely across the sea of legs. It was unusually busy in the main room tonight. Normally everyone went off to do their own thing after the meal, but with the early darkness and cold winter weather, the excitement of Parja's labour had kept everyone together.

Fi sipped from the glass, pulling a face at the powerful after taste "How long?" His voice was almost pleading. "It's been eight hours now, _buir_, how much longer?" He felt as if he were stuck on the adrenaline high of a battle, it ached in his muscles and he was sure that he'd get the shakes when it finally left his body. He lurched to his feet, picking his way across the room to stand by the door, peering into the darkness through the narrow slit windows. He paused for a few minutes before tugging back the heavy lock and heading out into the night.

Ordo made a move towards the door but Skirata waved him back to his seat. "It's okay, Ord'ika, he's just trying to clear his head. There are a lot of eyes on him in here." He looked past them all and nodded at Atin. "Go with him, At'ika. He'll be happy to have your company. Take this…" He held out the bottle of _tihaar_ and his own heavy cloak.

Vau unclipped his black velvet cloak and held it out as well. "And take this for Fi. Don't let him freeze." He stretched as far as he could to hand it over, unwilling to disturb Mird from its spot at his feet. "You'll hear the cheers when the littl'un's born."

Atin found Fi sitting on an outcrop of rock, staring out over the inky black lake with tired and anxious eyes. He draped the black cloak around him and sat down at his side, offering the liquor bottle. "…a drink to the health of your child…and to keep out the cold, _vod'ika_." He put an arm around his slim shoulders, feeling the muscle loss from his forced inactivity. He could tell that his brother was an anxious ball of nerves; the commandos had always been closely attuned to each other's emotions. "It's okay, _ner vod_, everything will be over soon. You're going to have a beautiful baby…"

He didn't need to ask what was bothering him. Matters of family were not part of the Kamino training programme and the commando's ingrained desire to control meant that the unfamiliar situation was enough to raise the blood pressure instantly. Fi was scared of the unknown and he couldn't even tackle the fear head on. Parja had banned all men, except for the doctor Mij Gilimar, from the birth room. The only grounding for birth that the clones had learned was from holoscreen dramas, where the men stood by the bed and held their partner's hand; Mandalorian culture was more old-fashioned and no mother expected her husband to be present. It made the wait even worse – it had been a long day of pretending to get on as normal; as if nothing were happening at all.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fi managed to gather what he wanted to say. He was staring down at his hands, frustrated more so by his difficulty in getting the words out. Under normal circumstances he was normal, chatty Fi again but when he got emotional; excited, stressed or occasionally angry, he found himself stumbling over words and struggling to coordinate his thoughts and vocalization. Eventually he managed to reply. "What if I can't be a father? I don't have a clue where to even start." He leant forward, resting with his hands on his knees as if the nerves were making him nauseous. "I'll do something wrong, I know I will, I'm not myself anymore. I've got no coordination, I get confused, I forget words…I'm no more than a child myself."

Atin tugged Skirata's cloak tighter around himself, shivering as the cold wind blew in off the water. He wasn't sure how best to provide comfort when, being brutally pragmatic, all these points were true. He picked up a pebble and skimmed it out into the water. "It'll come naturally. Nobody knows what to do until they have to." He gave him a side long glance, taking a swig from the bottle. "You'll be fine. We're all learning how to be normal together…look at me, living under the same roof as the man who scarred me and actually beginning to enjoy his company! If I can manage not to gut Vau, you can manage to be a _buir_. You're our miracle, Fi, and now you're about to become a father. By all odds, you shouldn't have even lived. You can do anything, _ner vod_."

The silence descended again, but he embraced it, rocking the bottle of _tihaar_ in his hands. Neither were big drinkers so Kal was going to get his bottle back largely untouched. The time seemed to pass slowly, only marked by the gradual chill seeping into his bones.

After what seemed like hours, Fi shifted beside him, apparently trying to bring life back into his aching cold limbs. "Atin, did you talk to me when I was unconscious? I have these…dreams…and I don't know if they're real or hallucination."

Atin remained silent for a few moments before replying. "I did." He shifted uncomfortably, hugging the cloak tighter around his shoulders. The topic obviously wasn't an easy one. "I didn't want you to feel alone. I remember being in bacta several times from training and after Qiilura; it gives me nightmares. I've had three prolonged submersions; Vau put me out for weeks twice over and many more short dips. And a Verp round in the chest does some damage too…"

Fi sat quietly, mulling it over in his head. He knew his brother was scarred both physically and psychologically from his training years; Vau had been a harsh sergeant to his squads. Some had taken that style of coaching well but those like Atin had struggled. Most of his 'defining features' were from Vau, not from the enemy, and that seemed wrong on all counts. Fi took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and staring out over the calm water. "Wanna talk about it? You always say 'another time', but right now seems as good a time as any. I've seen the scars, we all have, but none of us understand what went on." He watched his brother in his peripheral vision, noting the small movements which he knew inside out as 'anxious Atin'; the tight breaths and clipped movements. "A problem shared is a problem halved, _vod'ika_."

Atin seemed to give it thought before reaching out for the _tihaar_; steeling himself. "Vau's interrogation training put half of us in bacta. He did what he felt he needed to in order to make us infallible commandos but I struggled. He stripped us, starved us, dehydrated us…humiliated us…and then when we got through that, he tortured us. I didn't think he was going to stop. I thought he was actually going to kill us. He tortured us by depriving us of sleep first; he alternated blinding light and deafening noise until we could barely function and then he took us one by one and interrogated us with electric shock and vibroblade." He paused and swallowed audibly. "The shock treatment shut down my body and I was in bacta for a week." He came to a halt but Fi encouraged him to continue with a gentle hand on his arm. "I lost my first squad in a live training incident. They came to my aid and were wiped out. Vau's disciplining was a choice to fight a brother, or him, until only one was left standing. I couldn't hurt a brother for my mistakes so I fought Vau. He had armour, and a _beskad_, and I had nothing; he cut me apart with that saber. I still have nightmares of bleeding out, and the smell of the blood and adrenaline. And then I lost my second squad at Geonosis…" He was trembling, hands clutching the cloak so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Fi moved to squat in front of him, forcing him to make eye contact. "At'ika, _udesii_. You're safe now. Nightmares can't hurt you." He kept a comforting hand on his arm, concerned by his involuntary trembling. The silence was deep and painful; eventually he felt he needed to break it. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you were affected this badly. I wouldn't have asked if I knew what you had gone through." He took his hand and squeezed it in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Kal trained us hard and went through all the usual starve, dehydrate, strip, humiliate and interrogate, but he never physically wounded us. He threatened us with violence and he did enough to ensure our training was tight, but ultimately we all knew and trusted him. It made him physically sick but he refused to hand over the task to anyone else. Walon's an expert in interrogation, so I guess he didn't want to risk you getting substandard training. I think all the other sergeants handed over the duty."

Atin crushed his hand in return, his nails biting into his brother's skin. "I don't hold a grudge against Walon. He treated us like his own father treated him. I feel sorry for him in that sense." He drew a deep calming breath. "It still gives me nightmares though…"

The noise of the door creaking open jerked them both back to the here and now. They could see Skirata making his way across the yard towards them, clutching a little wrapped bundle close to his chest.

Atin heard Fi's breath catch in his throat and laid a hand on his shoulder. _"Udesii, ner vod, udesii."_ He could feel him quivering. "I'm not hauling your _shebs_ off the ground when you pass out…breathe…breathe."

Skirata came to a halt in front of them, his smile stretched across his face. "_Kandosii_, Fi. You're a _buir_." He held out the bundle, carefully placing it in the young commando's arms, arranging them for best support. He looked adoringly at his two sons and the baby. "These are the moments that make me the happiest man alive."

Fi cradled the tiny baby to his chest. "Girl or boy?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, cracking as the tears began to run down his cheeks.

Skirata patted his shoulder. "A girl, a daughter." He gave a sob-choked laugh. "_Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."_ He indicated back towards the _kar'yai._ "Come on, everyone wants to congratulate you and see the baby. Parja said you have to name her."

Atin put his arm around Fi's shoulders for moral support as he stepped back into the room full of bodies. Everyone was up on their feet, slapping Fi's back and cooing over the infant. It was Mereel who eventually called for quiet, making a space around the new father. "Well, Fi, what are you going to call her? Parja says that it's your role as the father to name her."

Fi looked uncharacteristically shy, staring down at his child. "We talked about this a lot…and I don't understand why she wants me to be the one to choose." He closed his mouth, feeling the weight of his decision scaring him. He turned to glance around the sea of patient but excited faces, panicking as he felt himself struggling to think; knowing that he was going to stutter and stammer as he tried to explain himself. He took a metaphorical running jump, hoping to plough through the mental block. "Atin…her name is to be Atin Bralor. A…and if…" He paused, taking a deep breath to regain control. "And if something ever happens to me, will you care for her as your own daughter, _ner vod_? Without your support, I don't think I'd have got this far. I don't think I'd have got to Graftikar and if I hadn't then I would never have realised I could meet a lovely girl and have a chance of a family. I didn't think I could have what you and Laseema have or Darman and…and Etain had, and now I feel bad that I have more than you will ever be able to have." He trailed off, feeling anxious as he held his squad brother's deep brown gaze. Staring straight into his eyes, he found himself thinking of everything they'd been through – what made them individuals yet so closely connected; Atin's scars were a constant reminder of the horrific injuries he sustained at Vau's hands – not even on the battle field – and then there was the near fatal verpine round on Quiilura…

The memory of that extraction suddenly brought a sickening wave of tears to his eyes; the unexpected reminder of how close they came to death, over and over again. Before the tears blurred his vision, he saw his brother step forward to close the distance between them and then the strong arms wrapped around him, both holding him tight while protecting the baby between them.

He felt like he'd been doing an awful lot of crying lately, considering it was meant to be the women who got hormonal. All he could think about was the awful, empty months were he had felt that he had nothing to live for except to fight a war in which he had no stake and no worth aside from as a commodity. Bits of memories would come flooding back to him now; the sound of Niner crying for _Kal'buir_ to draw in Ghez Hokan morphed into a nightmare in which the cries were real, born of pain and terror…mixed with idle recollections of moments of down time together; of sitting in camp on Qiilura with Etain for the first time and of Atin's violent reaction to Marit stew on Graftikar.

The bundle in his arms began to squirm, making little noises that seemed to be building up to a sob.

He found himself rocking her gently, completely unaware of it until the noises eased and the little face looked up at them with blind attention. It dawned on him that he had moved automatically to comfort the baby without anyone telling him what to do. He knew an infant of this age could not see with clarity at this distance but he found himself laughing anyway. "She's going to have to learn subtle nuances of character quickly or she'll think she has over a dozen _buirs_." He shifted her into one arm so that he could free the other one, offering her his hand and gulping back fresh tears as his forefinger was grasped in a tight, determined grip. "_Su'cuy_, At'ika. Are you ready to meet your very large family?" He took his finger back and handed her over to Atin who looked just as overwhelmed as Fi felt. "Let's start with him. Say hello to your _ta'buir_, Atin Skirata."

* * *

_**This is the first day of my OC's life. This story will continue to flesh her out in her family. **_

_**It's a study to build the character for my MandoMerc cosplay. **_

**_Anyone interested in the costuming side can keep track of that on deviantart - my username is structuresque. I will update that more when I actually get painting!_**

**_As always, thanks for taking the time to read my work. :)_**


	2. Phantom Pain 3BBY

**AN: No plot changes - just fixing a reference**

* * *

**Phantom Pain**

**Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore in the year 3BBY**

The dream had felt horrifically real; so real that he had woken in a sweat. The midsummer storm raged outside the _vheh'yaim_ and the flashes of lightning served only to amplify the stress, seeming for all the world like live ordnance. It didn't matter how much he comforted himself that he was safe, it still came back to haunt him. It didn't need to be a stormy night, full of power and energy; he could find himself awake on a beautiful spring night in just the same state.

_The flashback nightmares varied through many different scenarios; none of the clones were short of trauma. Tonight he had dreamt of Qiilura; of the silent, agonising shot of the Verpine round that had extended beyond the protective capabilities of his katarn armour_. As he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his sweat soaked shirt, he could feel the burning pain – phantom pain. The shot was long healed, although he still had the scar for memory, but when he lapsed back into the memories he felt the pain. He didn't understand why but it was just something he had to deal with. _Usually his nightmares were of his training years and his spar with Vau. Being slashed with the beskad, unable to protect himself from the blade haunted him with painful regularity. When he woke from those nightmares, the feeling of complete vulnerability and the smell of blood made him vomit._

Tonight, he struggled to breathe, trying to convince his body that there wasn't really a round in his chest collapsing his right lung. He fingered the scar below his rib cage and got to his feet, creeping out the room and into the curved hall without waking Laseema, trying not to pant because that made it harder to pull back to reality. On the worst occasions, he found himself going to Kal'buir for comfort; reverting to being a scared little boy rather than a strapping adult mercenary.

_Even his age was a variable. He had been twenty eight when Dr Uthan had administered the aging antidote, so now he felt he should be forty four, but none of them felt that old. They had aged at double speed in their first fourteen years of life so when the genetic information had been teased out to form an 'antidote', the geneticist Dr Uthan had reversed the tweak to reduce their aging. Now they aged slower than normal. Nothing was normal in Kyrimorut. The rate at which each clone aged now seemed to vary depending on the individual but none of them had reached the chronological age expected yet. _

_Age is just a number; it had been meaningless in their childhood and now it was still meaningless. The only time it had felt important had been the years spent searching for the Kaminoan data. It had been a heavy pressure in those years; each now knowing what they wanted to live for._

He half expected Kal'buir to be sleeping in his chair beside the fire but tonight the _kar'yai_ was empty. He made himself a sweet mug of _shig_ and settled down on a thick fur rug in front of the central hearth, resting with his back against a heavy chair.

The flames flickered and the embers clicked and popped.

He shook his head a little in frustration at himself, wishing he could just roll over and go back to sleep, but the pain had settled and would gnaw at him until the day's activities distracted him. Painkillers didn't touch it, because there was no injury to treat and any attempts to convince his mind that he was unhurt always failed, so he had come to expect a day lost to the pain of a nightmare.

The floorboards creaked and he looked up to see his niece standing in the doorway. She wore a look of concern, fixing him with an intent gaze. "_Ner cabur_?" She didn't ask if he was okay; she could tell by his pallor, and by the way he nursed the mug of _shig_, that he had dragged himself from a nightmare and was dealing with the aftermath. "Can I get you anything?" She crossed the room and sat in the chair that he was leaning against, laying a hand on his bare shoulder; wise beyond her years when it came to dealing with the emotional baggage of ex-commandos.

He reached up and placed a hand on top of hers, squeezing her fingers. "I'll be okay, _ner ka'rta_, go back to bed." He shifted uncomfortably, sucking in a few tense breaths as the fire burned inside him. Struggling to get your breath was a panic trigger in any creature's mind – even the mind of a highly trained soldier. He radiated discomfort like the fire radiated heat. His skin was hot under her fingers and he had that sharp feeling of fear of being unwell when everyone else was asleep – it was a lonely time of night and he was glad of her comforting presence behind him.

She squeezed his shoulder hard; hard enough to pull him back from the brink of panic. "_Udesii…udesii_. What did you dream, _ta'buir_?" She often tried to ask them about the war but nobody was forthcoming with details. She spent a lot of time under the emotional shadow of a war she never saw – she knew that her own _buir_ had very nearly become a statistic – but the truths stayed held from her reach. "I'm not going to bed. Ordo's in the room next to me and he's having nightmares too. I can't sleep." She paused, listening to his laboured breathing. "Why does Ordo never sleep well in thunderstorms?"

Her question caught him off guard as he was focussed on the in and out of his own breath. "Live ordnance testing when he was two years old…_osik_." He stared up at the arched timbers of the roof structure. "The kaminoans traumatised the nulls; they broke them…they saw them as an experiment, not people. The wanted to terminate them because they were too uncontrollable but Kal'buir stepped in." He closed his eyes, feeling the flood gates open to questions. "They did terrible things to all clones, but the nulls were the trial batch. The storms on Kamino scared Ordo because they reminded him of the ordnance testing…it storms a lot on Kamino. They all struggle; it's just that Ordo's the only one who shouts in his sleep like that." He trailed off into silence. "Anyway…bed, cyar'ika. It's late."

She fixed him with that look which made him feel like he was staring in a mirror. She had many of her father's mannerisms; his sense of humour and his skills with a weapon; but when she got obstinate she became just like himself. Maybe she felt she needed to live up to the name as much as he did. "_Ta'buir_, I've already told you, I'm not tired." She slid down to sit on the floor beside him, threading her arm through his and laying her head on his shoulder. "Tell me about when you and _buir_ were commandos…please… I want to understand, not just feel the sadness…" She didn't look up at him; just staring ahead into the flickering fire.

Atin opened his mouth to argue, but he did understand her need to know. So instead he found himself talking quietly through the years; starting at Geonosis and ending after the Qiilura mission. It didn't feel like it, but he'd spoken uninterrupted for nearly an hour and her head was heavy on his shoulder now. "That's enough for tonight, _At'ika_. I promise I'll tell you more another time. It's not as if I'm leaving you on a cliff hanger…after all, you know I lived." He tried to joke to lighten the heavy feeling in his chest. "Go on. I'll see you in the morning." He encouraged her to get to her feet.

She leant down slowly to kiss him goodnight on his scarred cheek. "Goodnight, _ta'buir_."

She left him sitting by the fire, knowing he wouldn't return to bed and felt her way slowly back up the hall towards the cluster of five bedrooms. Ordo was quieter now, but she could still hear him; it was a wonder that Besany could sleep at all, but she never seemed to complain. There was no noise from her parents' room or from Laseema.

She stepped forward, letting the door slide shut silently, feeling so tired and strangely content, despite the disturbances that she was sure she would be asleep the moment her body sank onto the mattress.

* * *

_**A little description for some of the mando'a used:**_

_**Ner Cabur – my protector/my guardian.**_

_**Ta'buir – second father**_

_**Ner Ka'rta – my soul**_


	3. New Arrivals 18BBY

**AN: No significant changes - just fixing a reference**

* * *

**New Arrivals**

'_Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la'_

'_Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be'_

_Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore – 18BBY_

The peace and tranquillity of the silent, sleeping house was broken by the sound of Kal Skirata rushing down the hallways, hammering on bedroom doors. He was half dressed and fumbling with the clips of his chest plates as he moved, coming to a halt in the remaining node of the bastion after sending Mereel, Jaing and A'den to each of the other clusters of rooms. He beat on all doors and stood still to catch his breath.

"Kal'buir?" Prudii was first to surface, standing in the hall outside his room looking confused and half asleep. Ordo was next to appear; seeming slightly more focused than his brothers.

Kal raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming manner, stepping back as Fi opened his door as well. "Ad'ike, sorry to wake you all but I've just heard from Walon. I need to speak to everyone right now – at least the men, although ideally the whole alit. It's important; I wouldn't wake you if it weren't."

Ordo seemed to pull himself back in to Captain mode whenever the need arose. He nodded to Kal and then the Prudii. "Of course, buir'ika. We'll get everyone into the kar'yai." Besany was now hovering behind him, a nightdress drawn tightly across her swollen belly. He gave her a concerned glance. "Rest, Bes'ika. I'll fill you in on the news but you need to rest." He was fiercely protective and after his experience of Etain's complications during Kad's gestation; unwilling to see his wife under any unnecessary strain, especially so close to the birth.

It didn't take long to gather the alit in the main room of the vheh'yaim. Parja, Laseema and Jilka had joined the men to find out what was happening.

"Walon's found Sev." Kal stood by the fire, comm still in hand as if waiting for updates on the situation. He didn't sound as if he believed his own voice; nobody had expected Vau's increasingly frantic search efforts to be successful. There had be no sight or sound of Sev's whereabouts since Delta Squad had been forced to pull out and leave him behind on Kashyyyk. He took in the range of expressions on the tired faces before him. "Enacca finally got some reliable intel. He was held by Trandos and his injuries are quite severe. His medical wellbeing will be Fi's task. All we know right now is that he's lost a lot of blood so transfusions may be necessary and there's bad damage to his right arm." He trailed off, trying to plan how best to outline the situation quickly. "Walon called Delta as soon as he found Sev; Scorch wants out. I said we'd RV with Delta so he can concentrate on getting Sev home quickly. Problem is Boss and Fixer aren't in. They've been trained too well to desert – Vau's training has backfired somewhat. I don't know if they'll try to prevent Scorch from leaving. I have no idea how indoctrinated they have become."

Bardan stepped forward immediately. "I can help with a little 'convincing' if necessary…"

Kal shook his head, holding his hands up to stop any protests. "I want brute force and intellect on this one, Bard'ika. You have the intellect but remember the commandos are now tasked with Jedi removal and you're still on that list. I'm not risking your life for an extraction, son." He looked to the Nulls, the stress of the rushed planning showing in his face. "It's going to be myself, Ny, Ordo, Mereel, Prudii, Kom'rk, Jaing and A'den. I want all six of you just in case. You're formidable individually but as a team you'd scare away anyone. This needs to go right, ad'ike and we need to leave now." He took in their various states of undress and almost laughed; happy to see them all looking so much like normal people. "Suit up as quickly as you can. Ny's getting Cornucopia ready now. We have the perfect window to get him out but we need to act now."

He didn't tell them that the renamed Omega Squad were also out with Delta right now. The confession gnawed at his chest but he knew that if he mentioned it, Corr, Fi and Atin would demand to come too. He would tell the Nulls once they'd left Mandalore, but right now he had to keep the knowledge secret. They'd already failed to extract Dar and Niner once before. He was scared to jinx their chances this time.

Instead, he focused his attention on the lingering aliit. "Go back to bed, ad'ike. We'll hopefully be back for nightfall if everything goes to plan. It's not too far to travel. If Walon has to get in touch, he'll call Atin, okay?" He watched the nodded agreements then herded them back towards their beds. It was a strange time to call the family together but this was what Kyrimorut was here for, and Sev and Scorch had helped them all at points and more than deserved as much consideration as any of his own sons.

_In 24 hours it would all be over. The image of a clan celebration and meal filled his mind. It would all go as planned this time. Even Vau might be genuinely happy. The cloud that had hung over the black armoured Mandalorian would be lifted if Sev made it back to Kyrimorut alive. _

He wasn't dead.

Another survivor.

* * *

The ramp dropped to the frosty grass and several moments passed by before the doors opened. Vau stepped into the cool sunlight; a figure in sombre black beskar'gam. He held cradled in his arms the still figure of a commando; a commando in white Katarn with blood red markings.

Fi stepped forward, coming to the end of the ramp. "…Sev." He felt Atin step up beside him and offer to take Sev from Vau's arms.

A commando in full armour was a load greater than that easily carried by the training sergeant, but Delta's sniper had lost so much weight that it became feasible for him to lift him without having to resort to slinging him over the shoulder in the wounded man lift. He shook his head firmly, continuing to stride towards the vheh'yaim, glancing down at the unconscious body. "No, ad'ike, I need to get him inside. He's in a bad way; he's going into hypovolemic shock. He needs hydration and, ideally, a transfusion." _He'd never told his boys that he loved them; irrationally fearful that if he did the same as Kal, smothering them in love, more would have died in battle. Now he was scared that he would lose Sev before he got the chance to explain this to him. He'd watched him grow from a tiny kid into a grown man over the past fourteen years, learning his personality, his skills and training him to be the best. Every one of his commandos were his sons, all individuals, all loved and cared for; he just hadn't known how to express it._ He was across the yard and into the home in minutes, ignoring the trail of blood marking their route. "Fi, where's he going?"

Fi caught up with him and indicated down the hall. "Next door to my room; there are medical supplies ready and waiting. I'm medic in charge because Mij is out of contact and off planet right now."

Vau laid Sev on to the bed and stepped away to let Fi in at his side. He didn't know what to do now that he'd stepped away. The adrenaline of the long search and rescue was ebbing and he could feel the uncontrollable shakes starting. He could remember berating his boys for allowing the adrenaline dump to get to them but here he was shaking like a leaf.

Atin slipped a hand under his arm, squeezing hard enough to be felt through the beskar'gam gauntlet. "Come and get some caf, Sarge. Fi'll look after him just now." He turned him towards the doorway; having to put considerable muscle behind the movement. Vau was as tall as the commandos and kept himself just as fit, every bit the hard Mandalorian mercenary. Atin could remember going at the older man with the full intent of killing him, but Kyrimorut and the aliit had brought them together, melting away the venomous relationship. _Cin vhetin._ It was still hard at times whenever he saw his large facial scar in the mirror and remembered his harsh lesson in survivor's guilt after Geonosis, but the love the sergeant held for his boys had been displayed in his input into the bastion and the care of its residents. He may play the mean Mando in balance to Kals nice Mando, but he really did his best for them now. Maybe he had failed at being a buir to many of the commandos under his training, but he was now putting that right, as well as being a ba'buir to little At'ika at Kal's side.

Learning to love and to be loved.

_Aliit ori'shya tal'din._

Laseema and Jilka were preparing for the family feast, baking ingredients spread across the veshok table. It took a whole day to prepare and cook a special meal for the clan and even Corr had been roped in; chopping mountains of vegetables with the synth flesh peeled off his hands. Without the flesh, he could ignore any risks of cutting himself.

Besany say beside the fire, looking tired and pale, despite a full night's sleep. The baby was due any time and it couldn't come quick enough for her, and the days of occasionally more intense Braxton Hicks left her feeling like it would never really happen. Again, she found the irregular contractions ruining her day. It wasn't even worth mentioning to the others. She gave the bakers a guilty glance. "I'm going back to bed, if that's okay with everyone?"

Laseema brought her gaze up briefly to check she was okay. "That's fine. Get some rest for tonight. Hopefully the family table will be fuller if they pull off this extraction. That's worth being awake for!" She turned her attention to Vau as he settled anxiously at the long bench, his head resting on his folded arms. "Udesii, ba'vodu, he's home safely now." She caught her husband's eyes and nodded towards the hearth. "Caf should be good and strong…add a splash of Kal's tihaar, or maybe even some of that whisky Mer'ika brings out occasionally."

Atin poured two cups of caf and laced one with a generous measure of whisky before handing it to the exhausted sergeant. He glanced at the ladies and stole a handful of mixed nuts. "I'm going to be a blood donor. Look after Walon for me."

* * *

The first job for Fi was to try to remove his brother's armour. Most of it was badly damaged and the pieces remaining on his right arm were cutting into the mangled skin, soaked in blood and dirt. It didn't take too long to remove all the other plates but when he started trying to pry away the embedded chunks the pain spike was enough to rouse the commando back to confused consciousness. He moved to prevent him trying to rise, one hand holding his shoulder down and the other reaching behind him, fumbling blindly towards his pile of supplies. "Steady, Sev'ika, you're safe; this is home. You're going to be okay now." His roving hand found the smooth plastic of the bowl he had carried the supplies in and placed it near the head of the bed. He could see the fear in his brother's eyes as he processed his surroundings so he continued to offer gentle comforts. He even reached a tentative hand to stroke the long strands of hair away from his face. Sev had never been a touchy feely man but after so long away, contact was good for bringing a sense of safety. "I've given you some pain relief but if you're going to heave then aim for that basin. I don't think you've got anything in you to possibly vomit anyway, but just in case – it keeps the clean-up minimal if nothing else. I get plenty of that with my daughter now; nobody told me babies were so messy…"

Sev managed to fix him with something resembling an incredulous look. "D'ter…you…" He stopped and swallowed hard, fighting the swimming feeling in his body. He didn't want to succumb to nausea because his broken ribs ached even with the simple task of breathing; it terrified him to think of worse pain. He focused on the steady in and out of his breath and let his mind dwell on the thought of Fi, the supposedly brain dead sniper, having a child…a partner…and was this really a safe place. A home? He couldn't think straight and he felt as if he were balancing on a line of consciousness. "Lost…lot blood. Shaky…dizzy." He didn't remember ever admitting such a weakness, not even to his own squad, never mind to a mouthy di'kut like Fi. He was passed any move of bravery now; he was emotionally and physically shattered and no matter how they may have argued in the past, he did trust Fi as a brother and a medic. He glanced up as a figure entered the room, approaching him just outside of his line of sight.

Atin pulled a chair over beside the bed and sat down, removing his upper layers of clothing to display his impressive lattice of torso scarring and offered an arm. "Grade A blood on tap." He turned to give Sev a joking smile. "I hope you appreciate this, ner vod. I don't much like being pricked like a pincushion. Fi always seems to pull out his biggest, rustiest needle whenever I come to him." He gave his Omega brother a warm smile, knowing that he could jest in such a manner without any offence being taken. They were close; extremely close since desertion and beginning life in Kyrimorut. He watched as his forearm was swabbed and then looked away as the needle slid into the vein; no matter how many times he'd been gravelly injured and treated for life threatening injuries, the sight of a needle entering a vein still made him vaguely nauseous. He would never have made a medic…

Fi turned his attention back to Sev once he was sure the transfusion bag was filling nicely. "I'll give you a sweet if you're good, At'ika. Okay, I'm going to get this mess of plastoid off your arm, Sev. Just keep breathing and aim for the basin…" He had already released the gription and began to ease the hard material away from the undersuit and skin.

Sev let out a curse which wavered off into a sobbed groan, flailing his left hand in search of something to grip. He was vaguely aware of Atin catching it in his free hand and he returned the grip with all he could muster, focussing his energy into his crushing hold on the warm flesh. He was pretty sure his overly long nails would be drawing blood but he couldn't even begin to contemplate loosening his grip. The sound of plastoid hitting the floor let him know that half the armour had been removed. The second half was deeper embedded and the motion of tugging it loose brought his stomach into his throat. He turned slightly in the general direction of the basin but couldn't find the strength to turn right over. He coughed and heaved but Fi was right and it brought no relief. It didn't matter that his stomach was painfully empty; his body continued to issue orders of evacuation and he lay curled on his side with each wave washing over him until he eventually raised a mouthful of bile and had to shoot forward to lean over the edge to prevent himself vomiting on the sheets. He had no idea how long he stayed in that position, adding to the bowl and wishing that his stomach would settle.

Fi carried on with the treatment, merely adapting to the change in position with all the skill of a field medic more than used to this drill. He was fumbling to slow the heavy bleeding, fingers slick with blood as he administered clotting agents. Now that the plates and shredded undersuit had been removed the injury was terribly visible. He gently touched the purple-ish fingertips, his heart sinking as he realised how badly the blood flow had been disrupted. "Can you feel me touching your hand?" He frowned as Sev shook his head. "Squeeze my fingers." The cool hand stayed unresponsive in his own. _Osik._ "You've lost the blood flow to that limb, ner vod. It's already beyond repair – the limb is effectively dead weight." He didn't know how to deliver this sort of information as a soft blow. Corr managed after losing both arms, so losing one was perfectly doable. The issue was the knowledge that he couldn't fit a prosthetic, so until Mij returned, Sev would be reduced to only having his left arm. It was the loss of his dominant hand – in a soldier trained as a sniper. Fi knew what it was like to know you'd never be able to shoot at that level again. His own brain injury had left him without his precision shooting skills and no matter how much he trained; he knew he'd never have the reflexes back. He was 89.2% of what he used to be, and there wasn't a day went by when he didn't lament the loss off that 10.8%. Now Sev would have to go through the same grieving process and readapt. Corr would be able to help him; he was a satisfactory sniper shot even without real arms, but that was no consolation to a commando who had lived by this skill all his short life.

* * *

The operation to remove the damaged limb was a success, although it did require a great deal of assistance from the surgical droid that Mij had left. If they'd had the prosthetic limb, the droid probably could have fitted it with Fi's assistance but they didn't so that was entirely hypothetical. They had washed and dressed him, and carried him back to his room to sleep off the anaesthetic, offering water and comfort whenever he woke. Corr and Atin had returned to help the ladies with the endless cooking, leaving Fi and Vau sitting quietly in the room watching over the sleeping commando.

Vau had taken the seat by the bed and had held Sev's hand as he slept, touching and stroking his shoulder every now and then as if he feared he wasn't really there. The search had been so long and seemingly fruitless – it was hard to accept that it was over. Now he just had to trust Kal and his boys to get Scorch home safely. He couldn't wait to see the two brothers reunited again.

Fi was dozing peacefully until the sound of someone calling his name woke him. He gave Vau a questioning look. "Did I just hear my name?"

Vau indicated through the wall. "Besany…" He didn't offer much more; too engrossed in caring for his son, watching over him with an eagle eye. He was sleeping peacefully under a hefty dosage of painkillers and probably wouldn't stir much again until bodily functions required attention.

Fi hauled himself to his feet and made his way to the room next door, poking his head inside. "Besany?" He could hear her panting sobs but the fresher door was closed. He ventured further inside, stepping around the damp mess of clothing on the floor beside the bed. "…Bes?" The door wasn't locked but he was cautious to intrude. "Are you okay, Bes, shall I go and get Parja?"

He was about to turn and locate his wife when she called out to him again; his name a harsh, drawn out cry that petered away to a whine. With fear prickling his skin he opened the doors, and stepped in to the confines of the fresher.

Besany was crouched on the floor on her knees, wearing only her tunic; her legs bare. She was sweating and panting, her face screwed up in pain. "Fi, the baby…Fi…" She fixed him with a terrified look, reaching out for him, needing something to hold. "It's all happened so fast, Fi, I need your help." She clawed her way into his arms, her normal calm exterior shattered by the sudden swing in events. She'd had half a thought that the pains earlier in the day might be early labour but it seemed to have bypassed the steady build up she'd expected and gone straight for the final event, and she was terrified.

"Kuur, Bes'ika, I'll go and get Parja…" He tried to pull away but she held onto him desperately.

"It's there, Fi, its coming right now." She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her noise as a fresh contraction rolled across her. She wasn't pushing but she could feel it descending, stretching and stinging, and the desire was overpowering. She panted and puffed; trying to think of everything she knew of birth. She'd been present at Parja's but it had been long and slow, nothing at all like this. "Fi…"

Fi held her, feeling her nails biting into the skin of his arms. He was a combat medic; he knew nothing about child birth. He hadn't even been allowed to observe his own daughter's birth. Maternity was a woman's domain on Mandalore and he had neither experience or medical training, and Besany, while Mandokarla, had grown up in a completely different culture. He had to do something – panicking wasn't getting him anywhere and it certainly didn't help Besany. He waited until the contraction had eased and then picked her up in his arms and carried her back to her bed. "Easy, Bes'ika. It's gonna be fine – at least it'll be over quick." He turned towards the door and hollered. "Walon, get in here – hurry!" He didn't think that Vau's hands on experience would amount to more than his, but he had greater life experience and would at least have some idea of what to expect. Fi felt ridiculously ignorant and completely out of his depth. When the sergeant appeared in the doorway he cut him off before he could ask any questions. "No time, Walon. Wash your hands, get towels then come and help me. There's no time for questions." He pulled a pair of gloves from the medkit on his belt, leaping for the only thing that felt familiar…hygiene. He reached a gentle hand to part her knees, feeling intensely uncomfortable with having to put her in such a position of enforced intimacy. She was like a sister and he'd do anything to protect her, but this felt so out of place. This wasn't his role. She deserved to have someone confident; another woman, helping her through her first birth, not a commando medic who knew less than her on the subject. He tugged her gently into a position that easier for him to work, cringing at the belated thought that she really should be allowed to choose the position that made her most comfortable. "Move if you need to, Bes. Is it okay if I remove your underwear?" He had his fingers at the waistband but felt he still needed to ask permission.

She rolled her head to the side, trying to see him past the mountain of her own belly. "Just do what you need to do, Fi. I trust you." She closed her eyes as a fresh contraction began to build. "Sorry, Fi…" She writhed uncomfortably, unable to brace herself in any way when flat on her back, completely oblivious to Fi removing her undergarments. The pressure on her spine in this position was agony and she held a hand out, reaching for them. "…need to sit up."

Vau took her hand and pulled her up so that she was perched on the edge of the bed, her knees on either side of Fi as he knelt before her. He had his usual look of calm indifference – as if women giving birth spontaneously were part of everyday life for him. After everything else that had happened in the past 24 hours, one more challenge was nothing. He sat beside her, letting her grip his hand in a vice like hold. "Udesii, ad'ika. Just listen to what your body tells you to do – it knows more than we do." He was good at sending out calming vibes even if it was mostly hidden behind his gruff exterior. "Fi?"

Fi had a look of bewildered terror, forcing himself to look and touch; trying to show confidence when he felt none at all. "Babies head's right there. It's coming real fast." He absently patted Besany's knee as she took a brief respite between contractions that were hitting thick and fast.

"Gravity's helping. Support her through the contraction – it'll tear her if she doesn't get time to adjust." Vau mimicked cupping his hands. "Keep the progress steady."

Fi didn't know where the sergeant had picked up rudimentary midwifery skills but he didn't have time to discuss it now and the mention of a tear like that had made his teeth stand on edge, so he did as advised; keeping his hands to the crowning head through each contraction until it passed the widest point and slipped forward. "Bes, that's the head out. Nearly there, cyar'ika." He was prepared to catch the baby but not for just how slippery it was, finding himself clinging to a squealing, wriggling bundle of joy. He gave it a quick glance then grinned up at her sweaty, relieved face. "It's a boy, Bes'ika, Ordo's going to be so pleased."

"Tor." Besany reached down to take her child, cradling him against her chest. "We agreed to call a son Tor." She still looked in shock – the entire ordeal so sudden that she still hadn't caught up with the prospect of giving birth yet.

Vau watched the child cry, testing out the capacity of its lungs for all to hear, then gave Besany a kiss on the forehead. "Well done, ad'ika, he's a fine boy." He stood up to take his leave. "I'm going to get the ladies to come and take over now that the rush is passed.

Fi remained in the room until the wives appeared in the doorway and he was shooed aside in their clamour to see the baby and help Besany. Parja did stop give him a smile and a kiss. "Well done, F'ika. We may just have to make you an honorary woman for the day. Not many Mandalorian men deliver a child, especially not under such circumstances. I'm proud of you."

The praise made him glow and now that it was over, he found himself amazed at what he had just been part of. He had been inadvertently given a chance to be part of a special occurrence within his clan – something which he would not normally have been privy too. For all his fears, he was proud to have helped Besany when she needed support, even if he hadn't known what to do, and he couldn't wait for Ordo to get home and find out he had a son.

* * *

The family gathering was the biggest since they'd settled. The first feast had been overshadowed by the grief of Etain's death but the addition of three brothers to the aliit and the birth of a new child had made this occasion particularly special. There was grief; the extraction party had only returned with Scorch and Niner, and while the remaining family had only expected them to return with Scorch, it had been painful to hear that Dar had refused to desert and return to his son. Kad'ika had many ba'vodu to care for him, but none of that made up for the absence of his true parents.

Atin, Corr and Fi had been completely taken aback when their Omega brother had strode through the door behind Kal. Fi was first to cross the room and crush him in a fierce hug, unashamed tears on his cheeks. He had been scared that when the sergeant had broken his back, he'd never return to them; terrified that Niner would be treated the same as he had been. "It's good to have you back, Ner'ika." The words didn't seem enough – there weren't words to convey the emotions at seeing his brother safe among them. The unfamiliar imperial commando armour somehow made it harder because it made a mockery of what they had been; stripped of anything that made them individuals. There was no tolerance for their brotherhood and individuality in this aruetiise armour, and the first thing he had done was to provide his brother with a change of clothes, needing to see him as a familiar form again after so long.

Ordo had stopped dead in the middle of the kar'yai, Mereel walking into the back of him with a curse. He was white as a sheet. "Bes…" He was suddenly scared that his legs would give out but his brother had followed his gaze and now had a firm grip of his arm. They always had each other's back, no matter what.

Besany smiled at him from her seat beside the fire. She had Tor cradled to her chest, watching him suckle with a look of pure devotion. "He arrived quickly, Ord'ika." She nodded to the cluster of Omega commandos. "Fi delivered him on the bedroom floor. If he hadn't been next door I think I would have had to do it alone." She had recovered from the shock, content to have her child in her arms no matter how he'd made his appearance.

Ordo took a deep breath, tears in his eyes, before turning to grab Fi in a bone cracking hug. "Thank you for looking after her, vod'ika," he whispered, completely overwhelmed.

Kal had gone to give Besany a kiss on the cheek and admire his new grandchild. "Come on Ord'ika. Come and hold your son. Let him see his dada." He couldn't contain his tears of joy. He held a special place in his heart for Ordo and seeing him with a family brought him one step closer to dying a happy man. Just the issue of the rapid aging to deal with now, but that could wait one more day while they celebrated new additions to the aliit and mourned the absence of those loved and missing.

As the meal was finished and the table split into comfortable clusters of chatter, he was able to sit back and take stock.

Walon sat with a mug of netra'gal; a blissful expression of pleasure on his face. Mird was sleeping under the table at his feet and his two Delta commandos were at his side. He had adopted them both as soon as they sat at the table, following Kal's lead with his own sons. Now that the meal was over, Sev had fallen asleep with his head resting on Scorch's shoulder. Scorch had an arm round his shoulders, holding him close. _He had met his lost brother with tears, even more so when he realised how badly injured he'd been. As he processed the fact that his brother had lost his dominant arm, it had become painfully cruel and they had simply stood together, wrapped tightly in their embrace, sharing a tearful and slightly rough kiss. Walon had smiled slightly and turned to ruffle Mird's fur._

_Fi had watched them for a fraction of a second before breaking into a grin. "Kandosii!"_

Ordo and Fi were now sitting side by side, both holding their kids; a perfect image of fatherhood. Ordo had caught on quickly with a little confidence building guidance from Fi. Tor looked tiny against his father's huge frame, but the way Ordo held him could not have been more caring and gentle.

Looking around the table let him appreciate what they had here. They'd done well so far and there was no denying that this motley collection of individuals was becoming a true aliit and he was proud of every single one of them for their part in making Kyrimorut a success.

_Aliit ori'shya tal'din_

Family truly was more than blood


	4. Hunting 4BBY

Remote Northern Mandalore, 50 klicks North-East of Enceri **4BBY**

Mird slunk along on it's belly, glancing up at it's master, asking permission to hunt. The shatual buck was stepping slowly through the trees a little ahead of them. Vau made a gesture and the strill lay still on the ground, eyes completely fixed on the target. "Kuur Mird'ika," he breathed, squatting down low in the shadows of the trees. "This is her kill."

The strill fixed him with a look of disappointed resignation, uttering a barely perceptible whine.

At'ika and Sev were somewhere in the forest to his right; he could see their POV icons if he so desired but he had no need. He was just along for the ride and the thrill of the chase. He stayed obscured in the shadows, listening to the quiet comm discussion between Sev and At'ika. The retired commando was no expert sniper anymore, but he could still shoot better than pretty much anyone else around and he was responsible for that area of At'ika's training.

Corr and Ordo were out somewhere in the thick forests having their own training session hunting Roba with Tor and Kad'ika. Kal had gone alone to keep them company, much the same as he had; the old guys sharing their knowledge but leaving the hard work to the young ones.

The kids were adults now in the eyes of any Mandalorian and Tor had already proven himself a fearsome fighter, taking after his father in more than just appearance. Kad'ika tried to rival him, but just didn't have quite the same dogged focus, while At'ika wandered her own line in life. She was a very good shot; having been exposed to her father's skills from an early age, holding a gun as soon as she was big enough. Fi, like Sev, had never regained his commando level sniping skills, but that didn't stop him being an exceptional shot. He had focussed on returning his shooting skills and, although it had taken him years to achieve, he had regained the majority of his capabilities. Rather than pursuing active mercenary work like Tor, she had continued to train in a plethora of skills from her different uncles, soaking up knowledge from each of them.

_She had always been a little shadow traipsing around after Fi, clinging to her buir's kama and gradually pestering each and every member of the family as she got older and the thirst for knowledge blossomed. She could be found helping Jind with the nuna as often as she was found with a gun in her hand but she excelled in silent tracking, and if the situation called for it, she could drop a target in a shot. She had learned years ago not to trial her sneaking skills on Sev and Scorch – at thirteen she had decided to test herself and follow them, unnoticed, out to the lake one evening. The plan had been to surprise them and show off her talents but it hadn't quite gone as expected; her skills were as good as she thought, but all she got was a new education. It took her days to be able to look them in the eye again without blushing._

Vau listened to Sev talking her through the shot, hearing the quite clicks of the weapon being prepped and the steady in and out of their breath. He knew when the shot was fired because they both exhaled together and in the silence that followed, the shatual fell. The verpine was a wonderful weapon and he sometimes found himself jealous that she had access to such a rifle at her age, but then he recalled the many things he had when he had been young which he had chosen to walk away from. He'd have swapped them all for a loving father, but the best he could do was make the most of the life he had now. It was strange to live with such a motley collection of individuals and it constantly amazed him that so many highly trained men could live together in peace without any testosterone fuelled head-butting. It had to be handed to the Kaminoans; no matter how much he wanted to wring every single one of their skinny necks, their abilities to make loyal men who worked seamlessly together had to be commended.

He raised a hand to Mird, indicating that it could bound forward and try it's luck at tracking any other nearby shatual. They'd be a good twenty minutes gutting and preparing At'ika's for transport back to the camp so the strill might as well get it's chance to hunt too.

* * *

It was getting dusky when they made it back to join the rest of them. The camp had been set up on the banks of a lake so that Mereel could indulge in a little play with G'ika, with the warm summer sun, it made for a pleasant place to take a swim. The structure was a prime example of a vheh'yaim in its temporary form – reed sheeting stretched between the wooden supports. It was home for a week or so until they decided to return to Kyrimorut and re-join the family.

It was still a vast camp by anyone's measure; they were such a large family that these trips would still give any passing observer the impression of an entire clan on the move. While the hunts had gone off for the day Fi, Atin, Jusik, Scorch, Niner, Mereel, Prudii and Kom'rk had stayed behind to play meshgeroya, fish and generally kick back in the sun. Besany, Jilka and Laseema had chosen to come along as well on this occasion to keep At'ika company, although they all knew she was more than happy to be away in the company of the men for any length of time. Parja rarely came on hunting trips because of her role in the workshop. She preferred engines over any other activity.

A side of wild roba was roasting over the fire, already missing chunks where folk had carved off portions. It was a true mandalorian gathering and it felt like a home from home. The flames from the fire cast light on the gathering and added a scent of veshok resin to the air.

They sat down to join the meal, cutting portions of meat and helping themselves to the pot of stew. At'ika sank down to the sandy ground beside her buir. She nodded to the shatual carcass that was now hanging ready for butchery. The skin was hung over a beam beside it. "Another one like that on our way home and we'll have meat for a fantastic meal when we go home to mama." She didn't make much conversation but they both regarded the kill for a few minutes. "I'm making the fur into a kama. He was a handsome creature; it seems a shame to throw him on a floor and walk all over him."

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by a squeal and a giggle from Besany which was followed up by Jilka's uncontrollable laughter. Laseema had been curled up dozing in Atin's embrace but got upright just in time to see Mereel's retreating form leap in to the water. She looked to her husband and then to the other two ladies. "…was he…"

"…naked? Yes." Kal had a look of good natured frustration as he watched his son surface in the shallows. He raised his voice so that it would carry the distance. "…he seems to have forgotten that the male form does best kept at low velocities. You have sullied our fine women's eyes, Mer'ika."

Mereel gave them all a wide grin, standing with the water lapping about his hips. "You gave us access to reduced aging, buir – I'm making the most of being genetic perfection. Confidence, vode, who's going to join me?"

The clones had the physical characteristics of men in their early 30's and had maintained the physiques that had got them through the war. Perfection was normality for them. Most had more modesty than Mereel though.

Corr made to stand up but Jilka grabbed him. "Oh no you don't, Cor'ika. That's for my eyes only." She was smiling, but it held an air of menace and he knew that he was bested by a powerful woman.

Mereel gave an exaggerated shrug, making to move further in to the shallows causing another wave of giggles. He put his hands on his hips and took another step forward. "Ordo?" He ignored his brother's glare of daggers. "Atin…?"

Atin cocked his head from his position reclined against a natural slope outside the vheh'yaim. He was comfortable with Laseema curled up his side. Her fingers were resting under his shirt, stroking the smooth patches of skin between the scars on his stomach and her lekku curled slightly around his arm. He was content to stay like this all night; Mereel was just going to have to joke alone. "Sorry 'Reel. Water looks a bit cold for my liking and you know what that does for a man." He smiled as his wife stifled a chuckle, her face tucked in to the crook of his neck, her fingers briefly pausing their stroking.

Vau had been watching the exchange with his usual mild mannered indifference, but now he leant forward to whisper to Mird. The strill lunged to it's feet and took off towards the water. It was so quick on it's feet that there was no time for Mereel to do anything. It knocked the joking Null completely off his feet and they both disappeared under the clear water with a huge splash, bringing a wave of good natured laughter in the camp. When Mereel surfaced, coughing and spluttering with Mird trying to climb up him to get out the water he had the good grace to join the humour.

At'ika moved over to sit by her ba'buir's side, resting her head on his armoured shoulder and wrapping her arms around his; it was a mark of affection. Kal was all love and emotion, and she got her quota of hugs there. Coming to Vau was different; she could count on one hand the number of hugs she'd given and received from her black armoured ba'buir. They served different roles but she loved them both. _He'd hugged her tightly when Fi'buir had been ill and they'd all been worried for him. He'd kept her busy, distracted her and when she'd broken down in terrified tears, he'd picked her up despite her technically being an adult and beyond such stuff, and he'd held her tight and silent. When they sat together in the courtyard, watching the glowing insects darting from plant to plant in the twilight, he'd tried to explain about his family. She couldn't fathom how someone could have parents who cared nothing for you and she'd wrapped her arms tight around his waist, squeezing as tight as she could against the armour. He was her ba'buir; how dare people have hurt him. She wore her black armour for all the family; black for justice and gold for vengeance. Justice for every uncle, for Kal's constant battle to do right for his sons in the face of imperial terror and justice for her ba'buir who had gone through life without knowing love. She may not chose to hire herself out to fight but every day she lived to the most, in respect for those around her._ _She was pleased that Aunt Uthan's cure had given her an unnatural time frame with her father and uncles. She had worked out that she'd by ages with them when she was around 50 and then she'd over take them. Instead of scaring her, it gave her comfort to know they'd be by her side all her life. But her ba'buirs were an entirely different affair. The remaining years already seemed so few and she was already scared to lose them. She looked down at the armour – black and gold – she would always remember them, even when they were gone._

She glanced up at him, examining his silhouette in the fire light, gripping tighter to his arm for a moment to collect her emotions, feeling the wetness on her cheeks and the lump in her throat. Her lip trembled and she bit it hard.

He looked down at her and smiled before returning his attention to the dancing flames. "Don't cry, ad'ika, Mird'll get over the shock." His hand found hers and gave it a squeeze, discreet comfort. _Someone always had her back and she couldn't put a price on the family she'd been blessed with. _

**_Thanks for reading. A somewhat strange little filler chapter. This makes some degree of sense in conjunction with the entire 'project' of Atin Bralor. I like to write any significant pieces of her costume in to the story. The shatual skin is part of a kama on the costume, and the descriptions of her armour and the emotions behind it fit the reality of what I am building. If anyone is interested in seeing some of this 'in the flesh', please feel free to have a look on deviant art - somewhat deconstructed link blow - just remove the spaces. Her chest plate has Fi's RC designation. It's somewhat hidden in the scratches and weathering, but it's there. I want her story to be present in the costume - she's an all encompassing character. Between the shatual skin and the claw marks, I'm considering aiming her for brigade membership as a hunter but she needs more to fit that. We'll see how it goes. Sniper would be fun too but I think her fur would probably rule her out of that one. Anyway, thanks for reading and please feel free to let me know what you think of her look. Pretty happy with her paint job. ~ Atin_**

**_structuresque . deviantart gallery / 49944003 / Mando_**


	5. Vode An - Part 1

Vode An – Part 1

_18BBY_

It was deceptively quiet in the kar'yai, considering the amount of work that was being done. Besany and Laseema stood at the expansive table, cutting up piles of vegetables and making loaves of wholesome bread. The snow was thick on the ground outside and the default choice of meal had become those most satisfying and comforting, but today they had been woken early with news from Mereel.

Ordo, Atin and Corr were away on a supplies trip; nothing unusual or out of the ordinary – but they had called in to reveal some surprising news. Mereel and Kal had kept it quiet as they worked out logistics and discussed the plan at length, but in the early morning dawn they had woken the aliit with news of potential new additions.

So now they were doing the usual home roles of preparing a good meal for the returning party. Besany lifted her chopping board and swept another pile of root vegetables in to the pot over the fire. It had been bubbling away for an hour now as she added layer upon layer of ingredients. It would be a nourishing broth by meal time and would sit bubbling happily until it was needed – a true Mandalorian 'one pot' recipe. Jilka and Venra were working at the other end of the table, trying to master the art of making tiingilar. Rav had shared her recipe but so far that true pungent spice had eluded them. Fortunately the men would eat pretty much anything placed in front of them.

There was a cold rush of air as Fi and Sev appeared from outside, bringing a swirl of snowflakes in with them. Fi was carrying a side of shatual; ready for preparation and roasting over the fire.

Laseema lifted her gaze to give him a smile. "No gihaal, Fi? It'd add some body to this broth." Her tone was teasing and playful as she watched him cringe and smirk.

"When Atin comes home, ask him if he wants lizard stew…"

Laseema quirked her head at this, but it was Sev's curiosity that broke first. "Lizard stew?" he asked, fixing Fi with his usual intense stare.

Fi grinned wider, lowering the large side of meat on to an open space on the table before stepping back to coo over his baby daughter in her basket beside Tor; both dozing happily in the presence of family. "Marit, specifically…big lizards. They were very hospitable but they eat their own dead." He had a slightly distant look as he dredged up these memories that were so close to his traumatic injury. His memory from that time could be a little sketchy, but funnily enough, it was the moments of humour that he remembered well. "A'den told us to eat up and ask no questions, but Atin was playing his hearts and minds role too well, and when they told him they were eating grandma lizard he ended up puking his guts up in a bush. It wasn't his finest moment – but then I am told I puked _my_ guts up after that little bang in Eyat, so I'm not really one to laugh."

"Catastrophic brain injury gives you those rights; as does pulverising an entire limb…" Sev grunted in amusement and plopped down at the table to rest, giving a look of rather distressed confusion as Laseema shoved her board and knife in front of him. "Wha…"

She moved the piles of veg closer to him and took up another knife to attack the meat. "Get chopping. It's good practice for you…it'll get your coordination improving." She didn't give him a second look; knowing that he would feel the pressure the instant she set him the task.

He had gone through surgery to replace his lost right arm with a cybernetic, followed up by an extended dip in bacta; his injury being the final excuse for the aliit to smuggle in proper bacta facilities. Mij had argued that they had had too many close calls due to their limited facilities so it had been worth acquiring a bacta tank. And it had meant an improved recovery for his arm, although the unfortunate period in time between the removal of the damaged limb and the cybernetic addition meant that he was struggling to slowly regain coordination and fine control between the two limbs. He was not a patient man at the best of times and it was obvious how much it annoyed him to be floundering helplessly with simple tasks. His left hand was permanently marked with cuts, scrapes and burns from every time his coordination was off, but he persevered with Scorch's endless support and cajoling. They had become virtually inseparable since arriving at Kyrimorut, and although Sev did his best to maintain his hard man image, they could be caught in moments of affection more often than anything else. Nobody made a fuss. They did no harm and they deserved what comfort they could glean from retirement. They were never going to be the most gregarious of brothers, but they fitted in well and helped with the smooth running of the bastion.

Fi sat down beside him on the bench and took up another knife. "I'll peel and you can chop. You'll only learn with practice. Scorch said you've been getting plenty practice in." He didn't notice as Sev blanched, but Jilka stifled a snort of amusement. He seemed involved in his own thought process, wondering what his brothers had found on their little trip. Extractions were all fine and good, but unplanned extractions worried him. He didn't doubt any of their abilities; Ordo was a perfect leader, and Atin and Corr worked well both together and under instruction.

He came back to reality with a start and reached out to pluck a large vegetable from the pile to peel. "C'mon then, vode, let's get this meal ready for them; it's our role as home back up to make sure everything is ready for their safe return."

He didn't know if he was saying that purely to reinforce the knowledge that they all held about the family roles; or if it was partly to make himself believe that they would all come home safe. With no deities to look up to, they relied on their faith in each other to bring the family back together safely.

* * *

It had been a routine trip; nothing out of the ordinary until that secretive tip off from a 'friend'. Ordo didn't think of any of these people as 'friends'…merely acquaintances that knew they were clone deserters. They never shared any information with them beyond what was necessary to 'procure' the items they required. This time they had come to collect food supplies and refuel, yet word had made its way to their ears that a man who appeared to be a clone deserter had been seen scavenging in to the town on occasions.

Ultimately, they were good people here. They asked no more questions than was necessary – and now they showed their compassion to care for a fellow being in trouble. They obviously weren't quite prepared to put themselves in danger by helping anyone wanted by the Empire, but then who could blame them when the penalties were so heavy.

It had taken a little work to track the location because any clone was good at covering his own tracks, but Ordo was still at the top of his league when it came to trooper skills. They had followed the tracks and found a small cave entrance. There was nothing visible from the exterior that would give it away as a refuge, but all the pieces fit together.

Atin crept forward on Ordo's six, following him in to the darkness while Corr stood guard near the entrance. They approached in darkness; using the added cover to get in to the cave network unnoticed, following the low and twisting tunnel until it opened out in to a small cavern.

On Ordo's command they surged forward towards the three heat sources on their infrared HUD image. Ordo took down two of the sources, bellowing commands with the intention of confusing and freezing any actions of the men in his grip while Atin grabbed the remaining target. The take was hard and fast, designed to prevent any chance of panicked firing from the deserters. There was no means by which they could explain their intentions without risking startling the other men in to attacking – and there had always been the risk that they would be heavily armed and jumpy.

But instead they found their advances to be over enthusiastic; their targets barely fought back. One of the men in Ordo's grip flailed in panic but the other was painfully still. Atin appeared to have had a minor disagreement with his target but it hadn't taken much for him to subdue the target.

In fact the clone in his grip was thin and underweight, breathing with heavy, wheezing gasps. Atin found himself changing his grip to help him stand rather than having to consider subduing him, concerned that he would collapse if let go. "Udesii, ner vod, it's okay. We're brothers…friends…aliit." He pulled his canteen from his belt and offered it to the clone, tipping it up for him to take a long, gratefully drink.

One of Ordo's catch was writhing in his grasp, trying to release himself but the Null had a firm grip on his arms to prevent him doing so.

"_Kix!"_

Atin's clone – Kix - dragged himself upright despite his weak state and focused on his brother. "Easy, Jesse, it's okay. Relax, brother - he's another deserter, you're safe." It took a few seconds for the words to sink in and the clones panicked flailing stopped and Ordo could loosen his grip. Kix was trying to stand tall and defensive despite his terrible rasping breathing. He focused on the Null, radiating concern for his brothers. "He's blind; he can't see you…please don't hurt him."

Ordo completely released the clone named Jesse and turned his attention to the final, unmoving heat signature. He touched a hand to the clone's throat to feel for a pulse, finding it incredibly weak and thready. "We have a safe haven that we can take you to." He appeared to be running through the situation in his head before continuing. "You're clone troopers; how did you get out alive? Who were you with?"

Kix sank down to the ground, his legs giving out from under him again. "We were 501st." He looked at the unconscious body under Ordo's gentle ministrations. "He got us out alive…"

"…He was our Captain."

* * *

**_This 'chapter' will be split into a few separate parts rather than being told in one chunk. I was pondering what happened to the few remaining key 501st characters after the season 6 round up. Against my better judgement, I felt that they 'deserved' an escape chance too. We know something happened because we see Appo leading the 501st at the temple invasion. I like to think that our brave and inventive troopers would have done their best to find a way out after what happened to Fives. _**

**_I did consider posting this as its own story so that it could be tagged with TCW cartoon clones, but it is more important for it to be connected with the other short stories about the family. So apologies if the appearance of those lovable troopers was a bit of a curve ball! ~ Atin _**


	6. Vode An - Part 2

**Vode An – Part 2**

It was a slow struggle to get the troopers back to the Aay'han. Ordo had to leave them under shelter and move the Aay'han closer without drawing unwanted attention to themselves. It was a dangerous move but the Captain was too weak to walk, Jesse needed constant guidance and Kix was claiming strength while wheezing painfully under the minor exertion. Bringing the Aay'han closer allowed them to do the transfer in one move; getting the most ill on-board first and then helping Jesse to make his way through the uneven terrain.

Atin waited until they had completed the take-off procedure then brought them some food and a mug of sweetened shig. He opened the container and helped Jesse take the first few bites then went to help Kix with the captain. "What happened, ner vod?" He helped him to dress the semi-conscious clone in some clean warm clothes. The three had still been wearing damaged undersuits which offered little warmth when detached from the overall armour system. "Forgive my pessimism but l never thought ordinary troopers would manage to get out without help..."

Kix let out a heavy sigh and fixed his gaze on his captain. "Terrible things happened. We had to get out. It was a case of life or death. We agreed we couldn't go on serving like that. We watched two brothers die, one at the hands of a fellow clone... and then it all just went wrong." He looked pale and haunted as he dredged up the memories. "They lied to us; made us think our brother was lying. Rex got us out but we had no idea what to do. We had no money... we couldn't go anywhere near major civilisation. We've been holed up here because it's far enough away from people, but we can sneak food from the waste when it's dark. We were too bold to start with. Jesse got attacked because of his tattoo... people are scared to be seen to do anything against the Empire, so the laid in to him. He lost his sight and Rex was injured trying to rescue him. Then fatigue and sickness broke out and left us in this state." He looked exhausted; as if getting to safety had sapped the remaining life from him.

Atin led him across to sit at the squared sofas around the table, encouraging him to relax and take a few strengthening sips of sweet shig. "Take it easy, brother; you're safe here now. Corr will look after your Captain until we get us all home.'' He placed a soothing hand on the trooper's arm, completely in awe of these plucky boys. "We have bacta facilities... and a commando medic, and a sadistic chakaar who can put together damaged bodies nearly as well as he can dismantle them."

Kix managed to give him a look that conveyed both relief and concern at the same time. "What does that mean?"

"Chakaar?"Atin smiled at him across the table, reaching into his pocket to pull out a handful of candied nuts, handing three quarters of them to the other clone. "It's Mandalorian; means "grave robber" literally but it's used more to mean someone you dislike... although we actually like Vau, it's become more of an affectionate thing. He was my training sergeant on Kamino and he gave me most of my scars. He was a hard man but he's done right by us in the years since the start of the war." As he smiled, the skin around his facial scar puckered slightly. The scar itself was quite faded, but it would be visible for the rest of his life. It had become one of his most defining features; and it had got him noticed among the others for Laseema's shy affections when they had first met, so it couldn't be seen as all bad! "And Fi was a medic for his squad. He's pretty good at dealing with the first aid of soldiers. He recently completed a successful amputation on Sev, one of our more recent additions, and his arm was a horrific mess. Delta had to leave him behind on Kashyyyk just before Order 66 and Trandos got a hold of him; did a lot of damage before he escaped. He was in a bad way when Vau got him home but Fi worked miracles on him... and then went on to deliver Ordo's baby son."

There was a slight look of recognition flitting across Kix's face. "Delta? I think we came across them. They were very insular; they didn't want anything to do with anyone other than their squad. Their sergeant was called Boss, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, Boss was the sergeant. He wouldn't desert; neither would Fixer. We only have Sev and his partner, Scorch. Finding Sev safe provided Scorch with a reason to live again. They were a true pod and that was a truly rare thing as the war progressed. They are completely dedicated to each other, and in that way, I guess they are still very insular but they have become part of the aliit; the family." Atin found himself grinning as the realisation that they had such a great family coming together from this motley collection of individuals. "You'll fit in great...everyone does. Who did you serve with?"

"501st Legion. I was a medic for our unit. I've served side by side with Jesse and Captain Rex for so long; we just had to get away. We trust each other... we look after each other..." He hung his head, blinking through a shimmer of tears. When he spoke again his voice was thick and hoarse. "I let them down. l let them get hurt and then when Rex get hurt I couldn't do anything for him. I just had to watch him get more and more ill, and I couldn't treat Jesse and his vision never returned even as the swelling reduced. I'm meant to be the medic and I let them down."

Atin got up to move round the table and settle at his side. He wrapped an arm around the medic's shoulders, rubbing his shoulder blade soothingly. "I'm going to tell you that you did your best, and that it will be okay, but I know that doesn't make it any easier for you." He could feel the bones under his touch; the medic was malnourished, severely underweight and as they sat together in silence, a powerful wave of coughing spread through his body.

Kix doubled over, one hand gripping his side as if the coughing pulled at aching muscles and the other covering his mouth. He couldn't cough enough to ease the heavy tickle settling in his lungs and he found himself struggling to get enough oxygen. His eyes were streaming but he felt the commando's hand squeeze his shoulder and the mug rim touch against the hand covering his mouth.

"Drink, Kix."

He moved his hand and let the mug touch his lips, trying to take a sip but he choked and sprayed a mist of shig across the table surface, the rest dribbling down his chin. It didn't matter how many huge gulps of air he took, he couldn't clear the feeling. He coughed hard in to his hand, swallowing a few times before lowering it. There were a few drops of blood on his palm as he dropped it down in to his lap. He forced a smile as Atin reached for his hand, turning it over to clarify what he had seen. "It's okay; it's not urgent. It's been happening for weeks now. It's probably just a virus or something that I've picked up but I've not had anything to treat it and it's just got worse."

Atin reached up to wipe away a few drops of blood that were shimmering on the medic's lip. "You need to get some rest, brother. You've done everything to protect them at the detriment of your own health. Let's get you through to a bunk and you can get some rest... Jesse too. You don't have to worry about Rex just now. I promise that one of us will be by his side. If he wakes while you're resting we will make sure he knows where you are and feels safe." He helped him to his feet and led the way along the hall towards one of the unused cabins. It was quite touching to see how the two troopers interacted. Jesse was quiet; only speaking in soft tones to Kix... almost too quiet to be heard. Atin reached out to catch his arm and prevent him from walking in to pile of crates that had been pushed in to the cabin and felt how tense he went under the grip. "Easy, I'm just another brother. I won't hurt you." It was heart-breaking to see the trooper flinch away from any contact.

He stepped back, ensuring that they were comfortable before letting the door slide shut.

He then turned and headed for the cockpit, pausing briefly to ensure that Corr was okay tending to the captain alone. There wasn't much they could do until they got him home and in to bacta, but he had wrapped him up warm and bathed the wounds before administering some powerful antibiotics and pain relief.

Ordo looked up as he settled in to the copilots chair. "Prognosis? How are they looking?" He was blunt, as always. "ETA; six hours, give or take a little time to detour on approach. I've spoken to Kal'buir and informed him of their condition. He'll have bacta facilities standing by for the Captain."

Atin leant back, the leather creaking as he stretched his muscles. "The captain is _**the**_ Captain Rex of the 501st... and he's in a pretty critical condition. With the bacta, he may just have a chance, but his injures are severe." He ran a hand in front of his eyes, rubbing hard against the area of scar at the corner of his eye. "The other two are 501st too. I don't think anything can be done to bring back Jesse's sight, short of some type of cybernetic, but maybe Mij could do something for him. He's traumatised by it; he was attacked because of his tattoo and now he feels even more vulnerable because he can't see to protect himself." He raised his eyes to the ceiling then glanced across at Ordo. "Kix has been trying to look after them all; he was their medic, but he's completely burnt himself out. He's coughing up blood but seems to have decided that's okay. Ideally he'd go straight into bacta too but the Captain's injuries are imminently life threatening so he must be priority."

Ordo finished inputting coordinates and route data in to the navicomputer then swung away from the console to get comfortable. "Not much we can do for now then. We'll prepare the Captain for immediate transfer to bacta towards the end of the journey but we want him to get as much rest as possible just now."

They sat in silence, watching the blue streaks of hyperspace, both trying to get their heads around what had happened. Apart from Levet, they had never expected for any ordinary troopers to have succeeded in making an escape but it seemed particularly cruel how these men had managed to escape then found themselves unable to make ends meet outside of the army. They were skin and bone; seeming to waste away without the high calorie, perfectly balanced meals served in the GAR.

"How many others are there just like them?" mumbled Atin, a note of anger in his voice. "They got out... they made it out safely and then they starve. It's just not fair."

Ordo gave a sigh and continued to stare ahead into the swirling blue of space. Moments like this made him feel a little guilty. Kal'buir had stood by him and his brothers from that first day on Kamino because of the injustice of their treatment, yet these men had had to stand alone, with no father figure to remind then what someone cared. "We will never know, unfortunately. We can only do so much." He knew that that would never be enough to any of them, and he heard that thought echoed in Atin's frustrated growl.

It was unusual for something to rile Atin; he was generally pretty calm and dependable, even under stress, but this whole episode had stoked that small fire that lurked deep within. If he wasn't in his super calm frame of mind he often found himself swaying wildly into the opposite type of reactions and he could have a volatile temper. He glowered at Ordo; not annoyed with him in any way but just frustrated that he could apparently accept this as just another fact of life. "Ord'ika, just wait until you see them. Kix has been doing his best be scavenge food for them but when you touch them you can feel every bone. They're so malnourished that they are losing the muscle that they have had for the better part of their lives... it's not sitting idle that's caused it... they've just needed every scrap of energy to keep warm...to keep alive." He shook his head sadly. "If we hadn't heard the rumours and found them they would have died in that cave. The Captain is critical even now, Kix is much more unwell than he wants to let on and without supplies or medication I don't think he would be able to shake that illness...and then that would leave Jesse, who can't see to do anything for himself. They were completely lost alone. They would have died believing that there was no world for them as free men."

* * *

**Thanks for reading. New story to come soon. Treated myself to a lovely new tablet and I'm loving the handwriting recognition - I can handwrite my chapters now and not have to type them out later. Woo! ~ Atin.**


	7. Kar'tayli Aliit 10BBY

"_Loving you was so easy  
And leaving you was so very hard"_

Million Miles Away [Album:_Two Steps from the Move_] , Hanoi Rocks (1984)

* * *

**Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore 10BBY**

The insistent scrabbling of claws at his door woke Jaing from his sleep. He gave a frustrated groan and pulled the sheet up over his head, trying to block out the sound. It hadn't occurred to him that agreeing to inherit Mird's care seemed to translate in the strill's mind as having two people to pester, and he did not have the endless patience that Vau had for the creature.

Seeming to realise that its attempts were being ignored, the scrabbling stopped and was replaced by a high pitched whining – just the frequency to set teeth on edge.

Jaing shoved the blankets away and dragged himself out of bed, shivering in the cold. It was mid-winter and this region of Northern Mandalore got extremely cold; inhospitable if you weren't used to it. They'd adapted quickly and it was now normality for around seven months of the year. He pushed the controls and opened the door, expecting Mird to come rushing in, but instead the strill made a grab for him; closing its teeth around the leg of his pants. He flinched automatically but the teeth only grasped fabric. He had to grab the waistband to prevent them from being wrenched to his ankles as Mird started to reverse down the hall, dragging him with it. He hung on grimly, feeling the material ripping where the strill's jaws gripped. "Mird'ika, stop it. Let go!" He wasn't dressed for being out of bed and the halls were freezing.

He struggled against the tugs but he found himself faced with the option of going with the creature, or losing his pants completely. He chose to follow, letting himself be led out into the courtyard. It was so cold his teeth chattered. The snow swirled around them in a blinding blizzard, reducing the visibility to a matter of feet. Mird took off towards the fields, pausing to stare balefully at him before returning in a flurry of limbs to grip his clothing again and tug.

"Okay, okay…I'm coming." He considered returning for a coat but Mird was getting frantic and, truth be told, he was starting to feel anxious. Mird was a smart creature and had never led them on a wild chase – there seemed no reason to assume it would have now, so he trudged into the blizzard, head tucked in to his chest to keep the wind from his eyes.

He glanced up every few seconds to squint into the white. As they left the shelter of the courtyard, he could see a dark shape in the snow. His initial thought was that Mird had been hunting and had a very warped sense of pride and desire to share its kill but as he drew closer he recognised the shape as a curled up human body. There were drag marks leading towards the thick forest that indicated the strill had dragged the body towards the bastion.

Jaing's initial reaction was to reach for a weapon, but of course he had none and as his brain caught up, he realised that if there were danger it would be reflected in Mird's reactions. The strill had let go of his pants and closed the distance towards the body, whimpering and whining, curling up against it and licking its face. The body moved slightly, clearly not dead, and turned its head away from the slobbery ministrations. Suddenly it came clear and Jaing recognised what he was looking at.

"Walon!" He stumbled forward through the snow, closing the distance and dropping to his knees by his side. He had no idea what the older man was doing out in the middle of the night. He was dressed the same as Jaing; longs sleeved tunic and pants, as if he'd been in his bed the same as everyone else – of course he had, now the Null could distinctly remember poking his head in on the way past to say goodnight. He had got a reply. Vau had been sitting up in bed reading with Mird snoozing at the end of the bed. Why was he outside now?

He placed fingers to the former sergeant's neck and felt the fluttering pulse; racing and light. The skin was deathly cold and the light clothing was soaked through from lying in the snow. He gently shoved Mird away and gathered the man in to his arms. He managed to get him over his shoulder and stagger back towards the vheh'yaim. He headed straight into the kar'yai, where the fire always burned in the hearth, and deposited him on the shatual hide in front of the fire. "C'mon Wal'ika…" He gently pulled back his eyelid to test his pupil reactions. He could feel him trying to move but there was no strength in him even for that simple task. His breathing was getting slower and shallower. "…what were you thinking, sarge? Don't you dare do this to me…" He grabbed Mird by the scruff and shoved it towards the door. "Get Kal, Mird. Kal."

He watched the strill skid out into the hallway then returned his attention to his patient. _Hypothermia - core warming_. He'd been through this once before with A'den, but his brother had been in armour and had still been conscious when he'd saved his shebs. He reached around to grab some blankets from the chairs and started to strip the older man of his wet clothing, amazed that he had been outside in so little. There was the slightest of fights put up as he tugged away his garments and started to dry him off with the blankets. "Udesii, Walon, now's not the time to get self-conscious. I promise I won't let the ladies in until you're decent again – wouldn't want them making comparisons now – I'm sure they already compare notes…"

His attempt at humour was weak but it was all he could manage at the moment. Whether the ladies compared notes or not wasn't any of his concern, but he'd heard Fi and Atin grumble repeatedly about Laseema and Parja's overly familiar discussions about them both. It was fortunate that they were close brothers and they gave as good as they got; winding up the ladies by loudly discussing how best to make use of the equipment available to them. That had put a temporary hold on any comparisons because two close squad brothers like Atin and Fi had no self-consciousness towards each other; growing up in a military environment, none of them had got fancy ideas about privacy and the brothers had been through so much together, a minor discussion like this just seemed like making the most of mutual lessons – pooling resources.

He shook his head and returned to the task, throwing aside the wet blanket and wrapping the dry one around Vau's torso. He could here Mird returning, whining and scuffling claws on the flagstones. "Kal,buir? Hurry!" He tucked the blankets tighter and continued to rub his torso in firm movements to encourage blood flow to the core. "C'mon, Walon, you're not old enough to leave your boys yet." His care was rewarded by a small moan and the slightest of movements under the cocoon of blankets; not much but enough to indicate the mercenary's return to consciousness. The gold eyes met his but the look was clouded and confused. "That's it, stay with me…stay awake. I don't know what you've been doing or what you were thinking but you have at least another thirty years before you get to shuffle off and leave us. Come on, you're a buir…a ba'buir…you're meant to be responsible…"

Mird appeared in the doorway in a flurry of legs and came to an abrupt halt to fret and fuss over it's master. It was the perfect image of doting care; curled up against his side in what seemed to be an attempt to share body heat.

Kal wasn't far behind, having picked up his pace to a run after hearing his name called. He stopped with his mouth open for a fraction of a second before rallying to take control. "What happened?" He went straight for the medkit, although it wasn't really a medkit by the standards they had all been used to during war. It contained standard pain relief and small wound treatments, which invariably sat in the box for years as a home full of ex-commandos tended to see anything that stopped bleeding of its own accord as a minor scratch and unnecessary for treatment. There was nothing of much use in a scenario like this. "Is he cold?"

"He was outside, kal'buir." Jaing sat back on his heels to look up at his father. "He was outside, unconscious in the snow. Mird seemed to have dragged him back into the courtyard then come looking for assistance. I have no idea how long he's been outside or why he was outside, but he's extremely cold."

Kal dropped to his knees beside them, gently nudging Mird's heavy head out of the patients face. He hoped to see the younger man's piercing golden stare fixed on him but was concerned to see him still and unresponsive. Now he had to rack his brains for how to treat hypothermia. It was a disturbingly moment of déjà vu, but last time Vau had been conscious and talking within minutes. He didn't look so well this time. "We need to warm him up. He's dry now; wake his boys, get some more blankets and some hot water with lots of uj'ayl in it. He needs body warmth but Mird or one of his lads can do that. We'll get some warm fluids inside him…get him back in his bed." He paused for a few moments as he did a mental run through of the necessary tasks. "He must be ill to have been out wandering like this so wake Fi as well." It had been around ten years since Mygeeto – they were both getting too old for this. "Get Fi first, send him here then you'd better wake his lads."

He heard Jaing turn and run, leaving him alone with the other sergeant. Vau's eyes had rolled back in his head in a manner that wasn't what he connected with cold. _Vau was usually the picture of health and, as far as he knew, he hadn't complained of feeling unwell at all recently, not even for a mild illness like a cold._ He was glad that Mij had trained Fi up to look after the family. The doctor wasn't always around; he lived his own life most of the time and visited the bastion to catch up. He was always there if they had an emergency, but it was good to have someone on hand who could ascertain what was an emergency and what could be dealt with alone.

It wasn't long before the clatter of footsteps down the hallway heralded the arrival of a rather flustered looking Fi. He always looked like that when woken suddenly – it seemed to take him a while to gather all his thoughts together. Fortunately his mind jettisoned the unimportant things and he was still able to work under pressure while waking up. He already had a syringe in his hand and was measuring out a dose. "Stim…" he murmured as he got down beside Kal, rummaging through the mass of blankets to find the patients arm and to find a vein.

Kal nodded, making a mental note to add that to their standard med kit along with the standard painkillers and dressings. _The trooper's best friend…it was surprising they had over looked it, despite the change in pace to civilian life._ He left Fi for a moment and went to the kitchen, filling a mug with warm water and stirring in a generous dose of uj'ayl. It was a super sweet syrup and was just the sugar boost needed to assist the stim in reviving the chilled sergeant.

When he returned to his spot on the floor, Vau was looking a little more alert. The stim shoot was doing its job well and a little colour was returning to his skin.

Fi nudged him with his elbow to get his attention and discreetly point to a mark in the crook of the sergeant's arm. He twirled his used needle between his fingers to draw his father's attention to it before slipping the cover over it for safety, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head slightly. "Not mine." It was barely audible and Skirata didn't catch it, but he could lip read well enough. He knew Fi was trying to avoid distressing his patient in any way. "Do you want to have a look, or shall I?"

* * *

Fi fussed around with the blankets on the bed, making sure that Vau was well wrapped up. He was a good medic and he had been subtle about keeping his discovery from everyone except for Kal. He had dressed him back in a clean, dry tunic with long sleeves before coaxing him from his bundle of blankets and through to his bed.

Sev and Scorch had made the bed with extra blankets and set a good fire in the hearth. They had stated that they would sit up with their adoptive father to keep an eye on him and were firmly ignoring his claims that he would be fine alone. They may not know what had happened or why their buir had ended up unconscious in the snow, but they had that honed commando instinct and they knew when company was important.

Kal had stood to the side, just keeping an eye on his friend as he recovered and became fully alert.

Vau looked a little pale and ashy, but considering the vials that Kal had found discarded on his bedside table, he was doing pretty well; Fi had done well in administering a combination of drugs to counter the effects.

The medic had finished his fussing and checks and headed back to put his kit away, enlisting Jaing's help and catching Kal's eye as they left.

_A look could hold so many unspoken words. _Fi had known he would want to speak to Vau in private, but had to do so without raising the suspicions of the clones, and had done his bit to remove Jaing discreetly. _Good lad, F'ika._

Kal turned to Sev and Scorch, placing his hand on the latter's shoulder and squeezing. "Could you please go and bring him something warm to drink and the rest of those blankets. I'll keep an eye on him till you're back." It wasn't as subtle as Fi had been, but they were so desperate to do everything right for their buir that they didn't even reply; just giving a final look before leaving in a hurry to get back as soon as they could.

That left them alone.

Kal stepped over and perched on the edge of the bed to give his friend a serious look. He couldn't shout at him, no matter how much he wanted to. "What were you thinking, you could have…"

Vau opened his mouth, but it wasn't words that filled the air between them – it was a sob; choked off as the sergeant covered his mouth as if shocked at its treachery. His eyes squeezed shut and when he opened them again, the gold was shimmering. "I lost someone who should have been very close…" He was shaking his head as if disagreeing with the reality.

Kal was temporarily stunned because he'd never seen Vau come even close to tears. He didn't quite know what to do to comfort him. "…should have been?" That part had confused him and he couldn't help but ask despite knowing it was none of his business to pry. Vau was intensely private about everything and his past was a burden he bore alone.

"My father…" The words were clipped and said in that particular tone Vau reserved for talking about the parents who had taken pleasure in beating him down; his father dishing out physical and psychological punishment at every stage of his youth.

_He stood before his father at eighteen years old, chin held up, trying to do right by him…to make him proud. To join his Navy – like father like son. But the imposing aristocrat had stepped up before him, matched in height, and then shoved him back in front of everyone else present at the inspection. 'You're not good enough'. He was never good enough. Never good enough for anything. _

_The company and solace had been worth every one of his father's beatings. Pain could be numbed and he was so used to it now that it didn't matter what reason was given for it; he just took it and nursed his wrath. Until that morning when his father had caught him again and this time not only did he beat him, breaking his arm and leaving him in a sobbing heap on the marble floor, but he had dragged him up by the colour and spat in his face…called him every slur imaginable…and then left him for a short while, returning with a sheet of flimsy marking the exile of an entire family. _

"…should have been…my father told me I brought shame to the family name." Vau swallowed visibly, his gaze fixed in the past. "He exiled that whole family from Irmenu. I traced them years later, but it was too late by then." He was silent for a few minutes, swallowing back tears. "I was twenty by then…I had Mird. I kept track of him over the years but lost the trail lately. Now I know why…"

Kal sat quietly, trying to put together the little bits he had learned over the years about Vau's biological family. He knew it wasn't a happy relationship. He didn't need to tell him he had a family here…he knew that well enough, but sometimes the past crept up to haunt you, regardless of how safe you felt.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum…" He glanced at him patiently, waiting for the name.

Vau drew a hitched breath. "Luu'sas"

"Luu'sas," repeated Kal, touching the back of his friends hand in comfort. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." He didn't know what to say, he cared deeply for his close friend and it hurt him to think of the years they'd wasted arguing with each other over insignificant matters. The blame fell equally on each of their shoulders. If only they could go back in time and tell themselves to grow up and stop antagonizing each other. He stood up as he heard the noise of Sev and Scorch returning. "Tell your boys, don't leave them worrying." He gave him a slight smile. "And my door's always open if you want to talk it all over with someone."

"Tomorrow?"

Kal took a step back as the Delta commando's slipped through the doorway carrying three mugs of shig. "Whenever you're ready, ner vod."

* * *

"_And you're a million miles away  
I'll never get a chance to hold you  
So my message is the wind  
I pray that it gets through to you"  
_

Million Miles Away [Album:_Two Steps from the Move_] , Hanoi Rocks (1984)

* * *

_**I have a bit of a Vau headcanon - he's one of my favourite characters because it's so easy to love Kal, but Vau grows on you much slower - and then you find yourself loving him so much. Well...I do. My thoughts on Vau's youth, the events that led to him joining the Mandalorian's etc, and the 'why did his father dislike him so much...why wasn't he good enough' have been pondered on many occasions and this conclusion was met while discussing it with my partner while washing the dishes - yeah, don't you talk over your stories while doing chores... :P**_

_**This is just a little stand alone chapter. I had the first half written ages ago and actually intended to kill Vau but then I wrote The Parting Glass and of course he's still alive in that, and I don't think I can kill my fave...so I made this one a slight brush against that headcanon. Basically I wanted to write tonight because waiting for the Scottish Independence Results are making me jittery! It's been a very boring day for one so potentially climatic! **_

_**~ Atin**_


	8. Ca'jurkad 18BBY

Just a small glossary of mando'a. I don't normally bother but I've used some phrases that are less prevelant.

Me'vaar ti gar? - _means 'how are you' but is a question that must be answered...it's essentially asking for a sitrep. If the reply is 'I'm fine' they would say Naas which literally means 'nothing'._

Me'bara? - _what happened?_

Ca'jurkad - _my own mash up word taking 'ca' (night) and 'jurkad' (an assault/attack) and it is intended to mean a nightmare._

Kyr ge'kaan - _endex; end of the exercise ~ military_

* * *

**Ca'jurkad (18BBY)**

Scorch sat up in bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He couldn't sleep well at all; every few hours his dreams would be plagued by flashbacks and horrible falls back into memory and he would wake disorientated.

It still hadn't quite sunk in that he was home... whatever home was. He half expected to wake up and find himself back in the barracks with Boss' mechanical snoring from the bunk above.

He'd only been here for a few days; this was his third night as a free man. The first night had been glorious; plenty good food, perfect company and reunion with his vode. The second night hadn't been as good. Sev had got sick, keeping them both awake until they'd had to wake Fi. It was an infection setting in around the amputation site and the ex-sniper's battered system hadn't been able to put up a good fight. He'd stoically ground on, pretending that nothing was wrong but he had been lethargic and even more crotchety than normal, and the fever had climbed over night until it got high enough to bring confusion and then Scorch had been forced to wake Fi for help. The medic had opened the surgical incision, finding the infection and doing his best to clean away the necrotic tissue and bring it back to healthy flesh. They had no idea why the amputation had gone necrotic but there had been so many dirty, infected wounds that it was believable that bacteria had got in to his body to wreak havoc. So Sev was now resting in bacta. Scorch had got one glorious night with him, a second stressful and wakeful night and now he was alone again. After even just one cosy night together, it was hard to lie down alone and try to sleep. Aside from missing Sev's body warmth, it was the first time he had tried to sleep alone. Every night of his short and eventful life had been spent in the company of his squad. He missed Boss and Fixer. _Why wouldn't they desert?_ It was no life being cannon fodder for any army, but at least there was always someone there to lend comfort after a nightmare, even if it was just a complaint about being woken...it was enough to have them near; to be reminded that they were okay. It was just too quiet alone is this room.

He slithered out of the large bed; a completely alien concept to a commando used to narrow bunks, and pulled a blanket from the bed to keep the chill away. It was a short enough walk to the medbay but the complex warren of tunnels still confused him, especially in the dark. He had to resist the urge to approach every bend as a commando storming a house; the unknown made him anxious and the shadows still held fear for him.

The medbay was lit by the faint blue glow from the bacta tank. It wasn't a comforting room, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he could pull up a chair beside the tank and get some comfort from the proximity to company.

Sev was still asleep or unconscious, but his temperature was back down towards what was expected and he was doing well. The wound still looked raw, but there was a lot to heal, but it was getting the glossy tone as it healed from the inside out. It was definitely going to leave a hefty scar but that didn't make any difference to them. Sev had a fine collection of distinguishing features already and it wasn't as if a few scars would phase Scorch...and nobody else's opinion mattered.

He settled down in to his chair and tugged the blanket around himself, pulling his feet up under his thigh. It shouldn't have been a favourable spot to sleep, but he'd rather be at his brother's side than in a large bed all alone and he soon fell asleep.

* * *

Scorch sat at the table in the mess, digging his fork in to a pile of noodles and shovelling them in to his mouth. He was in a funny mood and the more he glanced across at Etain and Omega at another table, the deeper it got. He'd tried to air his thoughts with the squad but it wasn't a comfortable topic and the conversation had veered towards the logic of this base at Hadde. It was wrong; you didn't talk about things like that. The child was not one of Omega's, of course it wasn't...

But the curly black hair and dark eyes were painfully familiar to those of the young clones on Kamino.

The conversation was barely started when he was blown back from his seat and the dappled sunlight suddenly became darkness, dust and flame.

He hit the ground on his back and the table collided with his chest, winding him and pinning him down. He couldn't breathe for the clouds of dust in the air and all he could hear was the shouts and confusion around him.

He managed to turn his head to look for his squad but the sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold. Boss and Fixer lay still, sprawled together under the debris of tables, unmoving and seemingly unbreathing. He struggled in vain against the weight pressing down on his chest, desperate to get out and help them but he couldn't move it. His heart rate had increased and hammered in his chest as if it was trying to leap from his body and he turned his attention to the outstanding squad member. Sev had been sitting by his side before the explosion. "Sev! Sev!" He coughed and choked on the permacrete dust, trying to shout loudly but barely managing getting the syllable out. He squirmed and caught sight of familiar red and white armour in his peripheral vision so wriggled even more frantically to get himself turned. His stomach turned when he finally managed to crane his head enough to see. "Sev...no, Sev, vod." His brother lay in a pool of blood and dust, limbs torn by the force of the explosion. It didn't take a medic to say he was dead but the more he looked, because he couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away, he slowly realised that his brother was breathing...and his eyes were open; staring straight in to his own. His mouth was open in shallow pants of breath, blood running down his cheek; bleeding from his mouth, his nose, his ears. He couldn't be alive; there were bits of him not attached any more, a crushed mass of disjointed body, debris and blood.

Scorch found himself gulping for air, his stomach rolling at the sight before him. Nobody could live through injuries like those but no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, Sev was still staring at him helplessly.

Scorch pressed his eyes tightly shut and counted to three before opening them again. Sev floated suspended in thick, vibrant blue bacta; marked with new scars, healing wounds...and a livid bruise and deep semi healed wound at his right shoulder where his arm should have been. Scorch's mind ran through this itinerary in milliseconds, trying to process what had happened, where he was and connect the previous moments with these. Time had disappeared and he was completely disorientated, recognising the room but not knowing why.

And then his stomach caught up and he launched himself from his chair, almost tripping over his stiff legs as he unfolded himself and bolted out the room and across the hall to the nearest 'fresher. He knew where he was now. On his quick exit he had realised there were two others in the room, one sitting a few metres away from the tank with a bundle in her arms and the other milling around, but he didn't have time to stop.

"Scorch?" Parja called after him, starting to rearrange her grip on the baby so that she could rise but Fi waved at her to stay put.

"I'll check on him, sit tight." He paused to kiss her hair as he passed, picking up the discarded blanket and lay it back in the empty chair. He left the room and stopped outside the 'fresher. The door hadn't been locked, just hastily shoved shut, but he gave it a few seconds then returned to the med room to perch on a bed. He glanced across at his wife, watching her feed their child. "He's throwin' up, best just giving him a moment to gather himself." He said it with a slightly distracted air of someone who understood what was happening and it was enough to prevent Parja disagreeing with him.

She didn't completely understand what the clones had gone through, but they had each other so she didn't feel that her ignorance was doing them any harm. She knew what haunted Fi; he had shared his inner most fears with her and she had helped him rebuild his confidence, but the rest of the men were a mystery to her. It was impossible to avoid noticing their moments of trauma though.

It was a solid five minutes before Scorch returned to the med room on shaky legs, looking pale and still breathing heavily as if he'd been running. Fi stood up and led him back to his chair with an arm under his elbow. "Udesii, me'vaar ti gar?" He sat him down, and placed fingers to his throat to check his heart rate. It was hammering, but it was obvious that Scorch was trying to pull himself back together and act as if nothing was wrong.

"Naas." The reply was clipped between panting breaths and Scorch clamped his mouth shut to try to regain some sort of control. The slip to mando'a was a trigger of comfort because those squads who had been trained by Mandalorians tended to use mando'a as a private language to hold conversation without Jedi, white jobs or civilians listening it. Having a language that wasn't spoken by many gave them an unexpected privacy in words. It made no difference now, it was the native tongue of their sanctuary, but as a deeply ingrained habit it gave comfort.

Parja tried to catch his eye but it was impossible; he was completely absorbed in whatever thought had invaded his mind. "Me'bara?" The concern was evident in the tone of her voice.

Scorch shook his head, scrubbing his hands through his hair and sighing, risking a glance towards the tank to clarify that Sev really was there, sleeping and safe. "Ca'jurkad." Fi hadn't needed to ask him that, a brother could read the signs and the unspoken words.

As if on cue the medic pulled a syringe from his pocket and held it so that Scorch could read the label. It was a very mild sedative; enough to reduce his pounding heart and calm him down but no more. It had never been intended for medicating the aftermath of nightmares, but the medics had soon found that use for it as the war took its toll on the clones. It was invaluable when it made the difference between a night of solid sleep or continuous nightmares. You couldn't operate safely when fatigued so it had become a stopgap for many a traumatised brother. Some had grown to rely on it, and then the problems came full circle. But Omega and Delta had both used it sparingly throughout their career as commandos so Scorch gave a slight nod in acceptance and offered his arm for Fi to find a vein. It could be delivered straight in to muscle, but a stabbed needle into a thigh or bicep was synonymous with battlefield first aid and it was much nicer to have a medic's gentle touch deliver it in to a vein.

Fi administered the drug with quiet efficiency and then held his thumb over the puncture to stop any bleeding, feeling the trembling of the limb in his grasp reduce and cease. It was quick acting and as he removed his finger, he reached up and squeezed his Delta brother's shoulder. "Kyr ge'kaan."

Scorch nodded and leant back in the chair with a heavy sigh, feeling the tension leave his muscles. He watched as Fi headed over the tank and began the slow procedure of checks that pre-empted releasing a patient. "Is he getting out?" He saw Fi nod and let out a sigh of relief. It seemed like a lot longer than a single day but after such a long separation it had been hard to have a few days then lose the contact again, especially when he was worried about his partner's wellbeing.

He found himself watching the suckling baby, completely caught up in the thought of a brother's child - not a secret child - just a normal family. To go from a military environment straight in to a family with three young kids had been something of a shock and he'd kept a distance between himself and them. He suddenly realised that Parja was watching him watching her and ducked his head, embarrassed to be staring at something so intimate. "Sorry." He shivered and pulled his blanket back over his bare shoulders to keep the slight chill away. Mandalore was a cold planet at this time of the year and though it had been warm in his room with the fire burning, it wasn't so cosy in here.

Parja gave him a smile and nodded to the baby in her arms. "Do you want to hold her when she's finished her breakfast?"

"No..." It was out his mouth before his brain caught up and he blushed at his rudeness and felt the need to carry on. "No...I'll hurt her." He held up large, scarred and burned hands. "I'm good with explosives but not with fragile living things."

They sat in silence while Fi worked beside them, all in their own respective thoughts, then much to Scorch's shock; she got to her feet with the satisfied child and stood over him patiently. "C'mon, this is the best time to hold her. She's full and happy - you'll soon learn that these are rare moments with babies!"

Scorch began to open his arms but the wrapped them quickly back around his chest. "I can't, Parja. I don't want to hurt her."

"You won't hurt her. You saw Ordo with his newborn son. He didn't hurt him when he held him, did he?" She was patient and persistent, working away at this lack of confidence. "Just hold out your arms and I'll show you."

Scorch tentatively released his grip of his own rib cage and moved his arms in to what he thought was a sensible position to hold a child. "That's different...it's his own son."

Parja laughed and lowered the baby in to his arms, adjusting his grip to create a safe nest for her in his huge hands. "That doesn't make any difference. It's not as if you unlock some special skills when you impregnate someone. He had to learn and he was scared too." She removed her own hands, squatting down beside the chair to give him some reassurance as he adjusted to this new experience. "Her name's Atin, but that is proving a little confusing so she's been going as At'ika all round. You can imagine what it was like when folk were saying 'Atin needs feeding, Atin's crying, Atin needs changing'...he loves her just as much as Fi does, he's a superb ta'buir, but he was getting some stick from his brother's."

Her smile lit her face and he couldn't help but let a small grin grace his own features as he imagined Atin's exasperation. He gave a slight gasp as the baby wriggled in his arms, automatically leaning forward as if he could cocoon her against him to keep her safe. Parja's hand on his shoulder encouraged him to relax and he sat up a little and watched the infant curl towards the warmth of his body, snuggled up against his bare chest. "Is she okay?"

Parja stood up and adjusted his blanket so he could sit comfortably. "She's perfect, Scorch. Look after her for me while I help Fi." She held a palm up to stem his sudden panic. "You'll be fine, look at her, she just wants to snooze."

He glanced up at her as she walked over to help her husband begin the tank drain and then back down at the baby. Her eyes were closed and she had a hand up to her mouth, sucking on her fingers in comfort as she slept. Despite his nerves, he found himself settling back in the chair, unable to draw his eyes from her. He'd never held a baby - never even had contact with children, other than watching younger clones on Kamino - but it wasn't unpleasant. Maybe if she were to start crying then he would worry, but while she was happy, he was happy too. Suddenly he found a small part of his mind thinking ahead to the future._ Mandalorians adopted, didn't they...could they adopt a child?_ A little bit of him thought it would be nice to be a father - to be important to someone other than Sev.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he was oblivious to the other goings on in the room and he jerked back to reality when he realised that he was being watched.

Sev stood between Parja and Fi with a towel round his waist. He was still covered in a fine residue of sticky bacta, and he was leaning his arm on Fi's shoulder for a little additional support, but he had a smile on his face. He always seemed to have a default serious expression and it was strange to see his features soft in a smile. "I leave you for twenty four hours, cyar'ika, and I wake up to find you holding a baby." There was a light teasing tone to his voice.

Scorch found a grin on his face, all tension easing to be able to see his brother on his feet again. "How are you feeling?"

"Sticky…" Sev raised a shoulder in a shrug. "A little sore, but nothing I can't handle." He nodded towards Parja. "Are you going to return your new friend and give me a hand to get washed and dressed?" He raised an eyebrow at him, still finding it a little funny to see the ordnance expert handling a tiny infant.

Scorch rose carefully to his feet, trying not to jostle At'ika as he handed her back. He had to admit that he missed her as soon as he handed her over. It'd been nice to hold a brother's kid - such a strong reminder that they were heading for normality. A chance of family and no more death and destruction. He stepped over to take Fi's place, wrapping his arm around Sev's waist. "As long as you behave as well as she did." He cast one backward glance as he began to guide him slowly towards the 'fresher. "...Sev…"

"Don't even think about it, Scorch." Sev gave a low rumble in his throat, the noise which was often a warning of danger, but just as often the noise that made Scorch weak at the knees. "That's one thing I can't do for you."

* * *

_**Thanks for reading. The attack on the Hadde base always struck me as a very bad time for Scorch and I wanted to write a chapter which explores how it affects him...but equally I love the image of a great big manly commando holding a tiny baby...so it went from PTSD to 'aw isn't that sweet'. A it of a swing in emotion but I wanted to finish kindly. ~ Atin Bralor**_


	9. Babysitting

"Dada, dada, dada!"

The sound of footsteps clattered down the hall towards them, closely followed by the flying form of the child.

"Dada!?"

Atin made a grab for her as she passed but she dodged and continued past him, heading for her parents room. He began to jog after her, noticing Scorch leave his own room up ahead. "Grab her, quick, don't let her past!"

Scorch looked bemused by the kid flying towards him but he stepped in to the middle of the hall and spread his arms to stop her. She made to slip him but she ducked his hands and ran straight in to Sev as he exited the room after his partner. There was a soft ooft as she landed back against Scorch's leg with a resounding thump.

Sev looked down in confusion and distrust. He wasn't overly keen on kids; he didn't see the point in them. They got under his feet, and they didn't make sense. At this age they had been handling weapons and they certainly hadn't been running around screaming, so why couldn't Fi train her to behave a little better.

Scorch reached down and scooped her up with one arm, swinging her over his shoulder and letting her hang their squealing excitedly. He was the polar opposite to Sev; he would make a superb father, but instead he had to settle as being the fun uncle. He had the perfect, fun loving personality to suit playing with kids. Sev might get more interested when she started to learn to shoot, but right now he deemed her a hindrance of a potentially volatile nature.

Atin gave a sigh of relief and motioned for them to follow him. He led them out to courtyard and took her from Scorch, balancing her on his hip. He gave her a smile and pointed towards the farm buildings where the nuna were gathering to be fed. "Can you see Jind and Cov over there? You be a good little lass and go and help him feed the nuna while I speak to uncle Sev and Uncle Scorch. Then when Uncle 'Reel's ready we'll all go and have some fun down at the lake." He placed her carefully on her feet and watched her gallop off across the yard to pester the two Yayax commandos.

Sev was watching him with his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised in scorn. "'We' are going to have fun?"

Atin nodded and slapped the retired sniper on the shoulder. "Yep, 'we'. Just down to the lake to do a bit of fishing though, nothing adventurous." He motioned back towards the vheh'yaim and gave a conspiratorial wink. "It's Fi and Parja's anniversary today so I thought we could get At'ika out of the way so they can...y'know...have a little together time."

A grin spread across Scorch's features and he turned to glance towards Sev to see if he appeared to be thinking the same thing. "You don't have to feel sorry for them, Atin. I assure you they find plenty time together. You may not share a wall with them but we do!" He nudged Atin in the ribs and made a broad motion towards the kid who was now scattering grain with such wild abandon that the nuna ought to have buy'cese on. "I'm surprised that there's not more like her running around."

Atin shook his head and shoved Scorch towards vheh'yaim. "I'd like to remind you that while I may not share a wall with Fi and Parja, I do share one with you two and you, ner vod, can't cast aspersions. Laseema thought some terrible creature had snuck in on you the first time what with all that grunting and growling going on..."

Scorch shrugged a shoulder, completely non-plussed. "That's Sev...ow!" He ducked as the sniper cuffed him across the ear, turning on him with a hurt expression. "Hey, that hurts remember...remember that arm's not flesh and bone, y'know."

"I'm not likely to forget, Scorch. It is attached to my body..." Sev attempted to give him a second cuff but Scorch was ready for it this time and ducked. "You deserved it too."

Atin gave them both a look of frustration. "Don't start a domestic right now; we're going to have fun. I don't care which one of you growls like Mird, it provides us amusement who ever does it..." He ducked promptly as Sev swung at him, only half joking. "Get ready and meet us in the farmyard. We're going to have fun whether you want to or not."

* * *

The sunlight glinted over the lake's surface as they settled down on the grass. Sev was stretched out on his back in the sun, full of lunch and happy to doze it off in peace. Mereel had pulled off his shirt and headed in to the water to cool off while Scorch and Atin were kicking a ball about in the hope of keeping At'ika occupied but she just didn't seem to have the ingrained love for meshgeroya.

She managed to give them the slip and sneak down the water's edge. Mereel caught her just as she yanked off her muddy tunic and splashed in to the water. He swept her up before she could sink, swinging her around his at arm's length until they both fell in to the water. He floated on his back with her on his chest, smiling up at her as she giggled in delight. "It's just as well one of us is paying attention, hmm?"

Sev gave him a half-hearted thumbs up without bothering to sit up or even open his eyes. Atin and Scorch were so preoccupied with their kick around that they didn't even hear him.

So he continued to play with her in the water, keeping her entertained in the way only an uncle like himself and Scorch could; free play with no reprimands. She was spoiled by all the family, but those who had no kids of their own were the most fun. They never bothered to tell you off and they had endless patience because they knew that, ultimately, they could hand the burden back at the end.

He came to a halt and balanced her on his hip, hushing her and pointing at the sleeping sniper. "D'you see uncle Sev, lazy uncle Sev? Shall we make sure he isn't all lonely over there?" He crept forward until he was only as deep as his knees, and then lowered her down to stand on her own two feet. "Go and give him a surprise...go on." He stepped back and lowered himself in to the water with a grin

At'ika took off, splashing through the water as fast as her legs would carry her. She flew straight up the bank and launched herself towards Sev, who was still blissfully unaware of the whole situation.

That didn't last though; he was woken by a flying tackle. She landed right on his stomach and knocked the wind from him, although he still managed a wonderful string of curses. He shot upright, ending up with the soaking wet kid in his lap, grinning up at him and waiting for him to grin back.

The world seemed to be holding its breath. Atin and Scorch had come to a halt, letting the ball roll away from them, and Mereel was watching from the water.

Sev lowered himself back with a sigh, waiting for her to clamber off so he could go and berate whoever was responsible but she didn't move.

She sat happily on his stomach, smacking her wet hands on his chest and bouncing enthusiastically. "Ba'doo!" She smiled even wider if that was possible.

Scorch had wandered closer and stood with his hands on his hips, watching with his head cocked to the side. "D'you hear that, Sev'ika? That's the closest she's managed to come to ba'vodu yet. You should feel honoured!" He plucked her off Sev's stomach so that he could get to his feet, then handed her back, much to the sniper's trepidation. "Go on, she's only little, you're meant to be a rough, tough commando; you can't be scared of a kid."

Sev took her, cautiously, cupping his arms under her shebs to hold her up. She was just the right height to stare him straight in the face when she was held like this and it was a little nerve wracking. She had this grin in place, regardless of what seemed to be going on and she reached up to touch his face with her fingers. He couldn't back away and had to tolerate the inspection. She was poking the scars on his cheek and temple with an inquisitive touch, and then when she got fed up she curled in to rest her head on his shoulder, sticking her fingers in her mouth to suck on them.

Mereel gave a hoot of laughter as he dried off with his shirt. "Looks like you're carrying her home, vod."

* * *

When they got back to the bastion the whole family was out and about, enjoying the warm summer sun. At'ika saw her mother working on a bit of engine in the yard and started to wriggle in Sev's grip, trying to turn and clamber down. "Mama!"

Sev lowered her to the ground and watched as she took off, leaving them to walk in the courtyard alone.

Fi met them as they dumped their belongings and took a seat on a wooden bench beside the bastion wall. "Su'cuy, vode. Thanks for letting us have a few hours this morning. It was nice to get some peace."

Scorch made to open his mouth but Atin elbowed him in the ribs. "That's alright, we had a good time." He motioned towards Sev, who had resumed his usual disinterested expression. "We even got a near 'ba'vodu' out of her and a near smile out of Sev."

Sev raised an eyebrow, and a choice hand gesture, in their general direction and shut his eyes to enjoy the sun. "You're just jealous, vod. I'm obviously not only genetic perfection, but the most words worthy uncle as well, and you just have to live with the shame."

Scorch let out a guffaw and slapped his partner on the back. "Well played, cyar'ika, well played."

* * *

_**I felt the need to write something light hearted before I return to Wolffe and co! ~ Atin**_


	10. The Cure - Part 1

**The Cure - Part 1**

Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore  18 BBY

"I'm doing it."

Mereel stood beside Uthan, glowering angrily at Ordo. His brother stood inches in front of him, trying to intimidate him into submission; the intimidation technique didn't work on a brother – it was a desperate final straw. "Kal'buir would have a coronary if you volunteer as trial. We're not doing that to him, Ordo." He folded his arms over his chest and looked towards his approaching father, repeating himself firmly. "Besany would be worried sick too. I'm doing it."

Ordo opened his mouth to argue but closed it quickly as his buir laid a hand on his shoulder in greeting. He turned to face him, taking in the lines of stress on his face, realising the impact the impending trial was having on him. "Buir, udesii…it'll be okay. Uthan knows what she's doing. This will work."

Kal laid his other hand on Mereel's shoulder, knowing what they had been arguing about, but not having the emotional strength to join in. He didn't want any of his boys to take the risk but one of them would have to. "How's it going, ad'ika?"

Mereel leant in to the comfort automatically, fixing Ordo with a fierce gaze. "We're organised, buir." He could see his brother preparing to speak so he leapt in quickly before he could open his mouth. "I'm taking the trial. I've had so much involvement, so it seems right that I do it." He glanced at Uthan, looking to her for support. "The others are arguing over who's going to be the standard test. Uthan wants a Null test subject and a normal test subject just in case all those little oddities they gave us make a difference."

Uthan, who had been standing in the doorway of her lab, took a few steps forward to join them. "It shouldn't, but better safe than sorry. The only stipulation I have is that it I won't use Fi as a test because he will need to be handled very carefully. We will cross that road when we come to it but I want to complete the test with someone who I think may be more of a stereotypical reaction." She looked extremely anxious, but then she did have the longevity of every clone member of the family - and the immediate health of two of individuals - in her hands. It was a huge pressure for anyone to be under.

Mij was lending a hand with preparations but ultimately everything rested on Uthan's shoulders. She was glad that it wasn't Fi to start with, because he had that disarming smile and she wasn't looking forward to seeing him hurt.

Kal took her arm and moved her in to the lab, watching Ordo and Mereel continue their muttered argument in the hall. "What are the problems with Fi?" He didn't like to think of any problems. This had to be plain sailing – his nerves wouldn't stand it any other way. "Will he be okay?"

Mij stepped over from the counter where he had been preparing the supplies for the first task. "He'll be fine, Kal'ika. We'll look after him." He noticed Uthan staring at her hands and carried on in her place. "In order to put genes in to the body, they need a carrier. You can't just stick them in and expect them to work. What we need to do is take a marrow sample from the men and then we'll prepare them for tomorrow. They are administered straight back in to the marrow. We could deliver it intravenously but putting them in to the bone is quicker." He could see that Kal was trying to keep up with the medical description, but really all he cared about was the implication for his boys. "So they will come down with the virus and feel under the weather, but the payoff is that it gets the treatment in to them. Unfortunately, with Fi, we have the issue of him having no spleen and therefore he's going to have to be monitored carefully because he will get quite poorly. Each individual will react slightly differently to the virus but we hope that everyone else will cope pretty well. Fi's the big concern."

Kal looked even more worried now, rather than comforted by the increased knowledge. "Can't you treat the virus once it's administered?"

Mij managed a half smile, slapping his old friend on the shoulder. "You can't give antibiotics to a virus…trust me; I'm the doctor. It's just a case of treating symptoms."

Mereel stepped through the door, closely followed by Atin. "Are you ready, Mij?" He patted Atin's shoulder, nearly making him stumble with the force of the move. "We're going to be your test subjects."

He was putting on his usual bravado, but Kal could see straight through it; Mereel was nervous…they were both nervous. They'd be foolish if they weren't. It was something completely new, untested. Everyone had been willing to be the test but it was still scary.

Uthan stepped towards the door, preventing the other men from entering. "Nobody else, please. Just the tests." She wasn't a particular tall lady, and she was imposing either. It looked as though Ordo was going to demand she let him in, but Kal gave him that look which had always told him 'it's okay', ever since he'd been a tiny cadet. He trusted his father, so he allowed himself to be ushered out in to the hallway with the rest of his brothers.

Mij waited until she had closed the door quietly then turned to the clones. "Okay lads, I need to take a sample of bone marrow to work with. I need you to lie on your side and I need access to your hip."

Mereel acted on instinct, treating it as he had any GAR medical; stepping out of his clothing and hauling himself up on the bed. It was the simple, no nonsense way that he had worked for every medical experience of his life – if you were called in for a medical, you stripped and thought nothing of it.

Kal moved over to stand by his son's hip, provided something of a human shield. He had noticed Dr Uthan take on a distinctly red flush. She obviously hadn't been expecting the men to just whip their clothing off without so much as a minor grumble. She wasn't a medical doctor like Mij…she didn't usually have anything to do with the human body; she was only staying while Mij took the samples because it seemed like the right thing to do – to see her work right through, but she certainly hadn't bargained on getting an eyeful of Mereel.

Atin was more reserved. He removed his tunic and pants, but seemed to stall, unsure of whether to go the whole step like Mereel. He was already displaying what he deemed to be his most shocking feature; the lattice of scarring across his chest and shoulders but judging by her mute embarrassment, she seemed to disagree.

Mereel grunted in pain, trying to watch as the doctor administered a short acting local pain relief to the muscle of his hip. "Hey, At'ika, get 'em off. If you've seen one you've seen 'em all." He looked up at Kal to see if he was smiling. He seemed to be trying his best not to, but there was the hint of a smirk at the corners of his mouth. "They went for perfection when they made us, didn't they, buir."

Kal took a blanket and tucked it over his son as Mij moved over to Atin while the pain relief took effect. "Don't get cocky, ad'ika." He ruffled his hair affectionately. "We'll see what you have to say when Mij comes back with the big needle…"

* * *

**_A brief introduction to the 'aging cure' arc. Had this sitting around half done for months but reading LongLiveThClones' story Ando - many times over :P - has given me the inspired kick up the shebs to think over how the cure would be administered. This is going to be a mash between gene therapy and the direct to bone injection given to Fett in the Legacy of the Force books. I'm going hip because it's less squeamish than the sternum shots that he was given! And a bit of research seems to suggest that the hip is a good source for marrow samples anyway. _**

**_I must say I sometimes sit back and think 'what would people think I was up to if they read my google history'?! It's amazing the topics you find yourself researching when you write! ~ Atin_**


	11. Burcyan 29ABY

**Burcyan**

_**After the Battle of Mandalore; 29ABY**_

_At Bralsin, near Keldabe_

* * *

The battle had been long and bloody. The beautiful, fertile land running down from Bralsin to the Kelita River had become a bloodstained graveyard for Vongese and Mandalorians alike.

_They may have won._

_But they had lost so much to do so. _

_It was a sour victory._

On that field they had watched over a third of their family die, falling among fellow Mandalorians of all backgrounds. This was a battle for everyone capable of lifting a weapon.

_This was a battle for their home – their planet – their very existence._

There was no ba'shlan shev'la. If they retreated, Mandalore would be slagged. There would be no attempts to terraform; the Vongese had found out about Mandalore's double agent status and there would be no holds barred.

They'd bombed the planet with singularity ordnance and reduced vast stretches to charred waste grounds. The family could have split up but they agreed to stay together, all travelling to Bralsin together to fight for their home.

_So many had fallen._

Those surviving had pulled back, away from the battlefield to set up a temporary camp, refuge and treatment centre for the injured. It was crude; temporary shelters and vheh'yaims located over some of the farthest extents of the tunnel systems.

All the clans were milling around this area together, any quarrels forgotten in the face of a common foe.

Boba Fett, Mand'alor, had led the battle and regardless of anyone's lasting childhood feelings towards him, it had to be admitted that he was a great strategist. He had played the enemy since day one, gaining information and feeding them information while helping the effort to repel them. It was dangerous and they knew that the game would eventually be up, but it was worth it for the information gathered.

It had meant the difference between life and death not only for those present, but for the entire future of their culture.

No Mandalorian would back down and watch his home destroyed.

* * *

It was dark now and despite the fear that the ebony wash brought to the landscape, it was eternally preferable to the blood red sunset washing over the thousands of bodies. The smell was tolerable but it would be all hands to the spades first thing in the morning. Mass burial and remembrance spoken over the bodies of those loved ones lost.

Only twenty of the Skirata's extended family remained, counting those from all three households.

_There would be a lot of mourning this night._

Everyone was huddled together around the fire, close to the next clan or family group; hundreds of men, women and children yet so little conversation.

_No laughter, no celebration of victory. _

_Would there every be joy again?_

At'ika lay on the grass with her head resting on her husband's thigh, her back turned towards the crackling fire so that all she had to look at was his stomach rather than the mass of bodies around them. Ghost had his armour off and his shirt open to dab at a wound which was oozing plasma and his solid presence was reassuring. The clones may be appear around fifty years old now but they were still very fit, handsome men.

To Ghost's left were his only remaining Wolfpack brothers; Wolffe and Jaro, flanked by Kix who was clinging to them after losing Jesse. Sev and Scorch had curled up together under a blanket, both trying to sleep and shut out the horror. They weren't asleep, but they both had their eyes tight shut and were twisted together as close as they could get.

Wolffe had been badly hurt and Jaro had him in his arms so that Bard'ika could discreetly lay his hands on him to give a little force assistance to knit together the deep wound on his shoulder. Kix had reduced the dislocation, but without bacta the wound was at risk of infection and festering. Even first aid supplies were severely limited with the considerable injuries spread across the survivors.

Bard'ika's force healing was doing a wonderful job but it was a dangerous risk to take. They had to shield them from prying eyes and make it look like simple affection between family members. The Mandalorians were most likely too busy to get overly excited about an ex-Jedi among their ranks, but they'd kept his Force presence hidden all these years. He had paid the price for his healing efforts on Fi and other members of the family, so he was looking considerably older than he truly was.

_Healing sucked the life out of you, but it was always worth it. There was nothing to regret._

And now he was happy to use those skills again to help reduce the festering infection in the wound and prevent them losing another member of the family. Jaro was holding up well, considering what they'd gone through, but his grip on Wolffe was desperately tight.

Corr and Niner were doing their best to comfort him and give him some support while serving the valuable purpose of physical shield to prevent the Force healing being visible to others. Corr had a glazed expression on his face, but Niner was multitasking; ensuring that his brother ate some rations and drank the water. Corr had watched his elderly wife die at the hands of a Vong warrior and it was only Mereel's quick actions that prevented him from following her to the grave. He had been in shock and he didn't look all that much better now, but there was nothing they could do apart from keeping a careful eye on him and reminding him that he was loved.

Mereel had tried to do his bit to bring the family together – to take Ordo's place – but he didn't know what to do. They naturally clung together and he hadn't needed to remind them to unite and care for each other. Jaing sat with him, his hand resting on Mereel's arm, trying to heal his brother's broken spirit while Mird curled up beside them with wide, baleful eyes. It seemed to feel the loss as strong as any human. After Vau's death, Mird had bonded to Jaing like glue and despite the pungent smell and negative childhood memories, the Nulls found themselves becoming extremely attached to the creature. It had become the sixth member of their clique after A'den's loss.

_Now there was only three of them…Jaing, Mereel and Mird. The final, deviant force in the family; two Null ARCs and black ops strill._

Levet was doing his best to keep the remaining half of Yayax under control. Jind was distraught but Cov took to loss with a ferocious anger. He's lost his wife, his daughter and two members of his lifelong squad. He wanted to be up; stalking, prowling, but it wasn't safe to leave the camp. He had to stay in his bedrolls and fume quietly. It would have been easier if they had some mild sedatives on hand but those had been used already on those more in need. It was Levet's calming influence that was holding Cov together and that pressure on Levet was crushing.

The younger family members – the second generation – had positioned themselves towards the outside of the group in a protective the family against any possible threat. Venku lingered a little closer towards the Wolfpack, always protective of his adopted father, Bardan, but he still maintained the defensive barrier with Kal'ika and Tor. His cousins must both be feeling the loss of their parents but they hid it well. Ordo had raised them to be powerful, independent men and it showed in moments of crisis.

At'ika blinked away the exhaustion, unwilling to fall in to sleep and nightmares. She had heard Laseema wake up in tears, clinging to Atin until the nightmare faded in to reality.

Right now, reality wasn't all that far from a nightmare.

At'ika and Laseema were the only remaining females in the family, which was a testament to their skill – but also to their good fortune. Laseema hadn't let her age hold her back. She may not have been up to fighting, but she could defend herself very well and Atin had been by her side the entire time. They'd spent the better part of their life together; forty-seven years and they were completely dedicated to each other.

Atin was stroking his wife's lekku, lulling her back to sleep in a safe environment. He was shoulder to shoulder with Ghost and took the opportunity to reach forward and squeeze At'ika's shoulder. "We'll be okay, ad'ika. We made the stand. It was the right thing to do." He moved his hand to embrace Ghost gently. "We couldn't run…not this time. This is our home; our culture. We had to defend it…" He thought of Kal, and Walon…Mij, Rav, Wad'e…every individual who helped them gain freedom and safety. This had been their home. If they were still alive they would have fought tooth and nail to protect it, so it was only right that they fought twice as hard in their memory.

The Mand'alor was sitting across the fire from them with his right hand man Beviin. The younger Mandalorian split his time between being a farmer and an elite commando; much as Fett split his between leading and bounty hunting. Beviin's husband and daughter sat with them, along with the members of the ori'ramikade.

They would need farmers like Beviin and Levet to help get the damage countryside back up and running.

There was no way that they would give in now. They had fought and saved their home planet, and now the fight would spread to ensuring the Vongese were defeated. This taste of victory was a powerful force driving the counter revolution and there had already been men and women pledging allegiance to Fett's supercommandos.

Ghost reached out with his free hand to clap the Omega commando on the thigh. "Tomorrow we will bury our dead, then we will rally to the Mand'alor. It's what Kal would have wanted; unconditional support." He stared in to the fire, watching Fett through the flickering flames lifting in to the night's sky. "We will fight for who we are. Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade; ori'haat!"

At'ika opened her eyes to peer up at her buir – the adoption had been instantaneous – Fi had asked Atin if he would adopt At'ika if anything ever happened to himself and Parja, it didn't matter that she was a nearing the same age as him; it was the principal that mattered. "Gar serim: haat, ijaa, haa'it. We will take them down."

It was firm words but Mandalorians didn't mess around.

This would never be forgotten. Those who fought and died would go down in the history and stories of the culture. Bralsin was eternally marked in memory as the place where the Mandalorians beat back an invader so evil that the rest of the galaxy was crumbling under its grip.

But Bralsin would prove to be a turning point.

'_Haat, ikaa, haa'it.'_

* * *

**_I meant to write something happy today - something celebratory - but instead I found myself going to this idea that I had sitting in the box of scribbles. I had planned out how the massacre would affect the family and then dumped the note in a stationary box. Well, I decided to go back to it. It's pretty brutal to kill sixteen members of the family but it's in keeping with the percentage losses during the battle._**

**_They have lost: Ordo, Kom'rk, Prudii, Fi, Dev, Yover, Jesse, Sol, Shiv, Kirii, Boost, Cov/Ruu's daughter, Besany, Parja, Uthan, Jilka and Ruu. And of course the oldies - the training sergeants have passed on by this point in the timeline as well, leaving only 20 standing after this battle. Ouch! ~ Atin_**


	12. Vode An - Part 3

**Vode An – Part 3**

Kix woke in a soft, comfortable bed and felt the instant panic flooding his body. This wasn't his bedroll on the cave floor...it wasn't even a barracks bunk. It was a completely alien environment and he bolted upright, ready to protect himself against whatever might be there. The action of moving so fast knocked the breath form his body and he dissolved in to choking coughs, tasting the metallic blood in his mouth.

The first thing he felt was the Jesse's hands on his arm, carefully feeling down the limb to locate his hand and press a glass of water in to his fingers. He took a few sips and stared wide-eyed around the room.

Jesse was by his side, dressed in clean clothing, but there were another three clones standing around the bed as well. One with an easy smile and a concerned expression, another who scowled and, upon closer inspection, appeared to only have one arm, and finally, a brother who took the breath from his body. _This couldn't be real. It must be a dream...or maybe he was dead and this was some sort of strange vision_. 'Fek...'

The brother moved forward, ready to comfort him. "Easy, Kix. Are you okay?"

"I'm hallucinating...or dreaming...fek." He leant forward and rubbed his eyes, knowing that this couldn't be real. The hand on his shoulder was real. The touch was a medic's touch. He opened his eyes again and looked up, grabbing the hand to ensure that it really was there. "...Ghost?"

The blonde medic smiled. "Yeah. You're not dreaming. This is real, vod. You're safe now."

The next thought to blindside Kix was the absence of his Captain. "Where's Rex? Is he okay...can I see him?" He was already struggling out of bed, sending the blankets spilling on the floor. "I need to care for him."

Ghost slung an arm around his waist to give him some support. The 501st medic was still a little unsteady on his feet, but he made it to the doorway before coming to a halt, breathing heavily. The rasp in his chest was easy to hear even without any medical equipment. "Take it easy, Kix. The only reason I'm letting you out of bed at all is respect for a fellow medic." He shifted his grip, letting Jesse grasp the back of his tunic as guidance. It was a strangely claustrophobic feeling to have one brother leaning against him and another clinging to his shirt tails.

Scorch seemed to read his mind and moved forward, taking Jesse's other hand and linking it with his own arm. "Let me help you, ner vod…just in case Ghost has to move quickly. I assure you I go everywhere at a calm pace when necessary!"

Jesse flexed his fingers around Scorch's bicep, gripping tightly before letting go of Ghost's clothing. He didn't like to lose contact with everything; he needed to have one hand on something at any given time to prevent himself from losing his bearings.

He was struggling to adapt to losing his sight. There was a lot a trooper could get used to, but with the constantly changing surroundings, he was unable to build up a mental map. At least they were somewhere warm and safe. It had been eating away at him to be unable to help his brothers get food or water.

_He had been able to hear Kix' terrible cough but there was nothing at all he could do to lessen the burden. All he had been able to do was sit with the Captain and try to keep him comfortable while Kix went in search of sustenance._

But now he had help. He didn't have to worry so much.

The brother leading him now seemed incredibly powerful compared to the trio's own malnourished bodies. He had been introduced by Ghost as a retired Commando, and judging by the muscles mass, he still kept fit.

His companion, another Commando named Sev, was considerably quieter and probably would have had no contact with him if it weren't for the fact he'd tripped on the corner of the rug while Scorch and Ghost were settling the unconscious Kix in bed. Sev's quick reactions had prevented him face-planting the floor boards and it was then he realised that the Commando was disabled; he only had one arm. That gave Jesse a boost of confidence because it meant that this was definitely a home for all clones, not just those who were _complete_.

He followed them along, gripping Scorch's arm and running the other hand along the wall to keep track of the changes and doorways. It all helped him to build up that mental map. If he get generate that map, then he would be able to move around more on his own. Right now he relied entirely on others to guide him from A to B. He was slowly getting used to the room he had been assigned with Kix and, in time, he may manage to stay in a room alone. For now he needed the support of others for those moments where he 'lost' the door. It was a steep learning curve and he still found himself panicking when he got out of his depth. He needed people around to prevent him from hurting himself.

Kix allowed himself to be led through the seemingly endless maze of corridors. He'd been unconscious by the time they landed on Mandalore, so he'd been carried to the bedroom and had never seen the bastion at all. The wing they entered seemed to be a small medical facility and laboratory; nothing like he was used to, but far more extensive than you'd expect in a home.

There was a small cluster in the room; three clones and two older men in sand-gold armour, who were all standing around the occupied bed.

Kix rushed forward, scrambling away from Ghost's grip so that he could cross the floor quicker. The assembled men parted to let him in to stand beside his Captain.

Rex was only semi-conscious and in the process of being prepped for bacta immersion, but he managed to grip Kix' hand and squeeze gently. It was hard to tell just how much he was taking in.

"Rex, you're going to be okay…"

Jesse took up position on the other side, finding the Captain's hand and wrap both his own around it. "Yeah, it's all gonna be okay now. We're safe…you're safe. These friends are going to get you well again."

Kal moved forward, placing his hand on Jesse's shoulder in support. "There's always a home for you lads here. We don't turn away any clones. This is home for anyone who makes it out." He glanced at Kix, trying to give the medic a comforting smile despite the situation. "You're all family."

Kix tried to smile back, but he was too preoccupied with his fear for Rex' wellbeing. His Captain was in very poor shape. Even with bacta treatment it was no safe bet that he would come out safely.

But a medic never told his patient those fears – even if the patient knew them for himself – so he put on his best comforting smile and ran a hand through Rex' blonde hair. It had grown out from its customary close-cropped stubble while they'd been on the run, and the blonde had lighter patches which would have been grey on a black haired clone.

"Thank you, sir. We're very grateful to finally find _home_."

* * *

_**Well, who else was suitably distracted today by all the Star Wars goodness! Those troopers... ~ Atin**_


End file.
